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IN 
THE LINE OF BATTLE 

SOLDIERS' STORIES OF THE WAR 



EDITED BY 

WALTER WOOD 

AUTHOR OF 

MEN OF THE NORTH SEA," " SURVIVORS' TALES OF GREAT EVENTS, 

"NORTH SEA FISHERS AND FIGHTERS," ETC 



ILLUSTRATED FROM OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPHS 



BRENTANO'S CHAPMAN & HALL LTD. 
NEW YORK LONDON 

1916 



,W75 



Printed in Great Bkitain by- 
Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, 
brunswick st., stamford kt m 8.e., 
and bungay suffolk. 






f 



INTRODUCTION 

The narratives in this volume, which is a companion 
to my Soldiers' Stories of the War, are told on exactly 
the same lines as those which were adopted for that 
collection. There was a personal interview to get the 
teller's own tale; then the writing, the object being to 
act as the soldier's other self; and finally the sub- 
mission to him of the typescript, so that he could revise 
and become responsible for the completed work. 

In dealing with these records I have tried to be a 
faithful interpreter or reproducer of a tale that has 
been told to me. I have invited a man to tell his story 
as it came into his mind, and to look upon me simply 
as a means of putting it into concrete and coherent 
form, and as a medium between himself and the reader. 
The greatest difficulty that had to be overcome was 
a narrator's reluctance to speak of his own achieve- 
ments, though he never failed to wax enthusiastic 
when telling of the doings of his comrades. Nothing 
has left a deeper impression on my mind than the 
generous praise which a gunner, say, has bestowed 
upon the infantry, and the blessings that the infantry 
have invoked upon the gunners. Never in any of 
Great Britain's wars has there been such an exhibition 
of universal esprit de corps as we have witnessed in this 
stupendous conflict between civilisation and freedom 
and cultured barbarism and tyranny. 

Nothing could have been more encouraging to me as 



vi INTRODUCTION 

compiler and editor of these true tales than the generous 
praise that was given to the companion volume. I 
am grateful to all my critics, who, without exception, 
so far as I know, welcomed and accepted the work for 
what it professed to be — an honest contribution on 
behalf of soldiers to the history of the war. 

I set out to do a certain thing — to act as pilot to 
members of a wondrous band who found themselves 
in unknown waters, and I succeeded past my utmost 
expectations. I am proud to think that any act of 
mine has put on record the doings of patriotic men who 
have fought so nobly for their country ; and thankful 
to feel that I have been the means of getting for his 
relatives and friends and all the rest of us the experi- 
ences of more than one fine fellow who since I saw him 
has answered the roll-call for the last time. 

Walter Wood. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

How Trooper Potts won the V.C. on Burnt Hill 1 

Trooper Frederick William Owen Potts, 1/lst Berk- 
shire Yeomanry (T.F.). 

CHAPTER II 

A Prisoner of War in Germany . . .16 
Corporal Oliver H. Blaze, 1st Battalion Scots Guards. 

CHAPTER III 

Gassed near Hill 60 33 

Lance-Corporal R. G. Simmins, 8th Battalion Canadian 
Infantry, 90th Winnipeg Rifles. 

CHAPTER IV 

A Linesman in Gallipoli 43 

Private John Frank Gray, 5th Battalion Wiltshire 
Regiment. 

CHAPTER V 

An Anzac's Adventures 62 

Trooper Rupert Henderson, 6th Australian Light 
Horse. 

CHAPTER VI 

" Imperishable Glory " for the Kensingtons . 80 
, 13th (Kensington) Battalion London Regiment. 



viii CONTENTS 

CHAPTER VII 

PAGl 

Ten Months in the Fighting-Line ... 94 

Private Frederick Woods, 1st Battalion Royal Irish 
Fusiliers. 

CHAPTER VIII 

A Gunner at the Dardanelles . . .114 
Gunner John Evans, 92nd Battery Royal Field Artillery. 

CHAPTER IX 

The "Flood" 130 

Corporal Guy Silk, 2nd Battalion Royal Fusiliers. 

CHAPTER X 

The Belgians' Fight with German Hosts . 133 

Soldat Francois Rombouts, 8th Regiment of the Line, 
Belgian Array. 

CHAPTER XI 

A Blinded Prisoner of the Turks . . . 148 

Private David Melling, l/8th Battalion Lancashire 
Fusiliers. 

CHAPTER XII 

How the "Formidable" was Lost . . .160 
William Edward Francis, Stoker. 

CHAPTER XIII 

A Trooper's Tale 171 

Trooper Notley, 5th Dragoon Guards. 

CHAPTER XIV 

A Diarist under Fire 180 

Private Charles Hills, 2nd Battalion Australian 
Infantry. 



CONTENTS ix 

CHAPTER XV 

PAGl 

A Stretcher-Bearer at Loos .... 196 

Private Harold Edwards, D.C.M., 1st Battalion South 
Staffordshire Regiment. 

CHAPTER XVI 

A Fusilier in France 205 

Private Fred. Knott, Royal Fusiliers. 

CHAPTER XVII 

The Daily Round 210 

A Subaltern's Diary. 

CHAPTER XVIII 

Saving the Soldier 230 

Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell, C.M.G. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

To face page 
"SEVERAL VILLAGES . . . HAVE BEEN DESTROYED IN 
THE INTERESTS OF OUR DEFENCE ..." 

Frontispiece 

CHOCOLATE HILL ....... 4 , 

THE WONDERFUL WATER SUPPLY AT THE DARDA- 
NELLES 12 



A BRITISH SOLDIER HELPING A WOUNDED GERMAN 

PRISONER INTO A CONVEYANCE . . .24 



BRITISH SOLDIERS CHARGING THROUGH A SMOKE- 
CLOUD 33 

A VIEW OF " V " BEACH, TAKEN FROM THE " RIVER 

CLYDE " ....... 43 

ANZACS AT SUVLA BAY 62 

THE DARDANELLES : CARRYING WOUNDED TO A 

HOSPITAL SHIP 74 

FIELD ARTILLERY NEAR YPRES .... 80 

ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS IN TRENCHES IN GALLIPOLI 94 

"W" BEACH, SHOWING CAPE HELLAS . . .114 

DEVASTATION IN BELGIUM : RUINS IN THE FLOODS 

OF YSER 133 

xi 



xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

To face page 
TURKISH PRISONERS MARCHING DOWN A GULLY IN 

GALLIPOLI 158 

BRITISH CAVALRY AT THE FRONT .... 172 

AUSTRALIANS LANDING UNDER FIRE . . .180 

A BRITISH SOLDIER WRITING IN HIS DUG-OUT . 188 . 

ZIG-ZAG TRENCHES CAPTURED FROM THE GERMANS 196 

STREET NAMES FOR TRENCHES .... 208 

A BRITISH SUBALTERN IN HIS TRENCH, WEARING HIS 

GAS-HELMET ....... 218 

BACK TO PRIMEVAL LIFE 234 



/ 



IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

CHAPTER I 

HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. ON BURNT HILL 

[As part of the operations in Gallipoli, it was decided to 
bombard and attack a very strongly fortified Turkish position 
near Suvla Bay — a sector stretching from Hill 70 to Hill 112. 
The frontal attack was a desperate enterprise, as the Turks 
had dug themselves in up to the neck in two lines of trenches 
of exceptional strength. The attack was made on the after- 
noon of August 21st, 1915, after a bombardment by battle- 
ships and heavy land batteries. It was in the course of this 
advance that the teller of this story, Trooper Frederick William 
Owen Potts, of the 1/lst Berkshire Yeomanry (Territorial 
Force), was struck down, and later performed the unparal- 
leled act for which he was awarded the Victoria Cross. For 
nearly fifty hours Trooper Potts remained under the Turkish 
trenches with a severely wounded and helpless comrade, 
" although he could himself have returned to safety," says 
the official record. Finally the trooper, in the extraordinary 
manner which he now describes, saved his comrade's life. 
Trooper Potts is only twenty-two years old, and is the first 
Yeoman to win the most coveted of all distinctions.] 

I saw a good deal of the Turks before we came to 
grips with them near Suvla Bay. I had gone out to 
Egypt with my regiment, the Berkshire Yeomanry, 
and for about four months we were doing garrison work 
and escort work for Turks who had been captured in 
Gallipoli and the Dardanelles and sent as prisoners of 
war to Egypt. Our place was not far from Cairo. I 
was greatly struck by the size and physique of the 



2 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Turks. There were some very fine big men amongst 
them — in fact, I should think the average height was 
close on six feet. 

We had taken our horses out to Egypt with us, 
and all our work in that country was done with them ; 
but as the weeks went by, and no call came to us for 
active service, we became disappointed, and got into 
the way of singing a song which the poet of the regi- 
ment had specially composed, and of which the finish 
of every verse was the line — 

" The men that nobody wants,'* 

this meaning that there was no use for us as cavalry 
in the fighting area. But when the four months had 
gone, the order suddenly came for us to go to Gallipoli. 
By that time we had got acclimatised, a point we 
appreciated later, as the heat was intense and the flies 
were very troublesome. 

From Alexandria we sailed in a transport, which 
occupied four days in reaching Gallipoli. Here we 
were transhipped to trawlers and barges, and immedi- 
ately found ourselves in the thick of one of the most 
tremendous bombardments the world has ever known. 
Battleships were firing their big guns, which made a 
terrific noise, and there was other continual firing of 
every known sort. We were very lucky in our landing, 
because we escaped some of the heaviest of the gunfire. 
The Turks could see us, though we had no sight of 
them, and whenever a cluster of us was spotted, a 
shell came crashing over. Thus we had our baptism 
of fire at the very start. 

We were in an extraordinarily difficult country, and 
whatever we needed in the way of food and drink we 
had to carry with us — even the water. Immense 



HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. 8 

numbers of tins had been filled from the Nile and taken 
to Gallipoli in barges, and this was the water we used 
for drinking purposes, as well as water which was con- 
densed from the sea, and kept in big tanks on the shore. 
Every drop of water we needed had to be fetched from 
the shore, and this work proved about the hardest 
and most dangerous of any we had to do after landing 
and taking up our position on a hill. Several of our 
chaps were knocked over in this water-fetching work. 

While we were at this place we were employed in 
making roads from Suvla Bay to Anzac, and hard work 
it was, because the country was all rocks. We had 
landed light, without blankets or waterproofs, so that 
we felt the intense cold of the nights very much. 

We had a week of this sort of thing, under fire all the 
time. I think it was on a Sunday we landed, and a 
week later we heard that we were to take part in the 
attack on Hill 70, or, as we called it, because of its 
appearance, Burnt Hill. There were immense quanti- 
ties of a horrible sort of scrub on it, and a great deal 
of this stuff had been fired and charred by gunfire. 
I little knew then how close and long an acquaintance 
I was to make with the scrub on Hill 70. 

It was about five o'clock in the evening when the 
great news came. We were to be ready at seven, and 
ready we were, glad to be in it. We did not know 
much, but we understood that we were to take our 
places in some reserve trenches. Night comes 
quickly in those regions, and when the day had gone 
we moved round to Anzac, marching along the roads 
which we had partially made. We reached Anzac 
at about two o'clock in the morning, in pitch darkness. 

We had a pick and two shovels to four men, and 
took it in turn to carry them. Each man also carried 



4 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

two hundred rounds of ammunition, so that we were 
pretty well laden. When we reached Anzac Cove 
we moved in right under the cliffs, which go sheer 
down to the sea; but there is practically no tide, so 
that the beach is safe. The only way to reach the 
shore was to go in single file down a narrow, twisting 
pathway. 

We were on the beach till about two o'clock in the 
afternoon, when we were ordered to be ready with 
our packs, and we went up the cliff, again in single 
file, forming up when we reached the top. Then we 
went a mile or so along the road we had marched over 
the night before — all part of the scheme of operations, 
I take it. Then we cut across to our right and saw 
a plain called Salt Lake, where we watched a division 
going into action under heavy shrapnel fire. 

We were now in the thick of the awful country 
which I was to know so well. The surface was all 
sand and shrubs, and the great peculiarity of the 
shrubs was that they were very much like our holly 
trees at home, though the leaves were not so big, but 
far more prickly. These shrubs were about three 
feet high, and they were everywhere; but they did 
not provide any real cover. There were also immense 
numbers of long creepers and grass, and a lot of dust 
and dirt. The heat was fearful, so that you can 
easily understand how hard it was to get along when 
we were on the move. These obstacles proved 
disastrous to many of our chaps when they got into 
the zone of fire, for the shrapnel set the shrubs ablaze. 
This meant that many a brave fellow who was hit 
during the fighting on Hill 70 fell among the burning 
furze and was burned to death where he lay. 

As we were waiting for our turn, we could see the 



HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. 5 

other chaps picking their way through this burning 
stuff, and charging on towards the Turkish trenches. 
When our own turn came, the scrub was burning less 
fiercely, and to some extent we were able to choose 
our way and avoid the blazing patches. We ran 
whenever we got the chance, making short rushes; 
but when we got into the real zone of fire, we 
never stopped until we were under the protection of 
Chocolate Hill. 

For half an hour we rested at the foot of this hill. 
From our position we could not see the Turks, who 
were entrenched over the top ; but their snipers were 
out and bothering us a good deal. It was impossible 
to see these snipers, because they hid themselves most 
cunningly in the bushes, and had their faces and rifles 
painted the same colour as the surrounding objects. 
However, we levelled up matters by sending out our 
own sniping parties. 

We were on the move again as soon as we had got 
our breath back. We still understood, as we moved 
to the left of Chocolate Hill, that we were going to 
occupy reserve trenches. We went through a field 
of ripe wheat. About two yards in front of me was 
a mate of mine, Reginald West. I saw him struck in 
the thigh by a sniper's bullet, which went in as big 
as a pea, and came out the size of a five-shilling piece. 
It was an explosive bullet, one of many that were 
used against us by the Turks, under their German 
masters. In a sense West was lucky, because when 
he was struck down he fell right on the edge of a 
dug-out, and I heard one of the men shout, " Roll 
over, mate ! Roll over ! You'll drop right in here ! " 
And he did. 

The rest of us went on, though in the advance we 



6 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

lost a number of men. Some were killed outright; 
some were killed by shells and bullets after they had 
fallen wounded, and some had to lie where they had 
fallen and do the best they could. We pushed ahead 
till we struck Hill 70 again. 

When we got to the reserve trenches I asked a chap 
how far away the Turks were, and he answered, 
" About a thousand yards," but I don't think it was 
as much as that. 

Now we began to ascend Hill 70 in short spurts, 
halting from time to time. We had fairly good 
cover, because the scrub was not on fire, though 
several parts had been burnt out. During one of 
these halts we were ordered to fix bayonets. 

We had found shelter in a bit of a gulley, and were 
pretty well mixed up with other regiments — the 
Borders, Dorsets, and so on. We first got the idea 
that we were going to charge from an officer near us ; 
but he was knocked out — with a broken arm, I 
believe — before the charge came off. He was just 
giving us the wheeze about the coming charge when 
a bullet struck him. 

How did the charge begin? Well, an officer 
shouted, as far as I can recollect, " Come on, lads ! 
We'll give 'em beans ! " That is not exactly accord- 
ing to drill-books and regulations as I know them; 
but it was enough. It let the boys loose, and they 
simply leapt forward and went for the Turkish 
trenches. It was not to be my good fortune to get 
into them, however; in fact, I did not get very far 
after the order to charge was given. 

I had gone perhaps twenty or thirty yards when I 
was knocked off my feet. I knew I was hit. I had 
a sort of burning sensation ; but whether I was hit in 



HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. 7 

the act of jumping, or whether I jumped because I 
was hit, I do not know. What I do know is that I 
went up in the air, came down again, and lay where 
I fell. I knew that I had been shot at the top of the 
left thigh, the bullet going clean through and just 
missing the artery and the groin by an eighth of an 
inch, as the doctor told me later. 

Utterly helpless, I lay there for about three- 
quarters of an hour, while the boys rushed round me 
and scattered in the charge. This happened about 
a quarter of a mile from the top of the hill. I 
propped myself up on my arm and watched the boys 
charging. 

I heard later, from a man who was with me in 
hospital at Malta — he had been struck deaf and dumb, 
for the time being, amongst other things — that the 
boys got into the Turkish third trench and that the 
Turks bolted. He told me that when they reached 
this third trench there were only seventeen Berkshire 
boys left to hold it. The enemy seemed to get wind 
of this ; then it looked as if all the Turkish army was 
going for the seventeen, and they had no alternative 
but to clear out. 

After the charge I saw this handful come back 
down the hill, quite close to where I was lying. I 
had fallen in a sort of little thicket, a cluster of the 
awful scrub which was like holly, but much worse. 
I was thankful for it, however, because it gave me a 
bit of shelter and hid me from view. 

I had been lying there about half an hour when I 
heard a noise near me and saw that a poor wounded 
chap, a trooper of the Berkshires, was crawling to- 
wards me. I recognised him as a fellow-townsman. 

" Is that you, Andrews ? " I asked. 



8 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

He simply answered " Yes." That was all he 
could get out. 

" I'm jolly pleased you've come," I said, and 
Andrews crawled as close as he could get, and we lay 
there, perfectly still, for about ten minutes. Andrews 
had been shot through the groin, a very dangerous 
wound, and he was suffering terribly and losing a 
great deal of blood. 

We had been together for a few minutes when 
another trooper — a stranger to me — crawled up to 
our hiding-place. He had a wound in the leg. We 
were so cramped for space under the thicket, that 
Andrews had to shift as best he could, to make room 
for the newcomer. That simple act of mercy saved 
his life, for the stranger had not been with us more 
than ten minutes when a bullet went through both 
his legs and mortally wounded him. He kept on 
crying for water; but we had not a drop amongst 
the three of us, and could not do anything to quench 
his awful thirst. 

That fearful afternoon passed slowly, with its 
grizzling heat and constant fighting, and the night 
came quickly. The night hours brought us neither 
comfort nor security, for a full moon shone, making 
the countryside as light as day. The cold was 
intense. The stranger was practically unconscious 
and kept moving about, which made our position 
worse, because every time he moved the Turks 
banged at us. 

I was lying absolutely as flat as I could, with my 
face buried in the dirt, for the bullets were peppering 
the ground all around us, and one of them actually 
grazed my left ear — you can see the scar it has made, 
just over the top. This wound covered my face with 



HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. 9 

blood. Was I scared or frightened ? I can honestly 
say that I was not. I had got beyond that stage, and 
almost as a matter of course I calmly noted the details 
of everything that happened. 

Throughout the whole of that unspeakable night 
this poor Bucks Hussar chap hung on. He kept 
muttering, " Water ! Water ! " But we could not 
give him any. When the end came he simply lay 
down and died right away, and his dead body stayed 
with us, for we could neither get away nor move 
him. 

During the whole of the next day we lay in our 
hiding-place, suffering indescribably. The sun, thirst, 
hunger, and our wounds, all added to our pain. In 
our desperation we picked bits off the stalks of the 
shrubs and tried to suck them; but we got no relief 
in that way. 

The whole of the day went somehow — with such 
slowness that it seemed as if it would never end. It 
was impossible to sleep — fighting was going on all 
the time, and the noise was terrific. We could not 
see anything of our boys, and we knew that it was 
impossible for any stretcher-bearers to get through 
to us, because we were a long way up the hill and no 
stretcher-bearers could venture out under such a 
terrible fire. 

Night came again at last, and Andrews and myself 
decided to shift, if it was humanly possible to do so, 
because it was certain death from thirst and hunger to 
remain where we were, even if we escaped from bullets. 
So I began to move away by crawling, and Andrews 
followed as best he could. I would crawl a little way 
and wait till Andrews, poor fellow, could crawl up 
to me again. We wriggled like snakes, absolutely 



10 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

flat on the ground and with our faces buried in the 
stifling dirt. 

We managed to wriggle about three hundred yards 
that night — as near as I can judge. Starting at 
about a quarter past six, as soon as the day was done, 
it was about three in the morning when we decided 
to rest, so that if we had really done three hundred 
yards we had crawled at the rate of only thirty-three 
yards an hour ! 

A great number of rifles were lying about — weapons 
which had been cast aside in the charge, or had be- 
longed to fallen soldiers; but most of them were 
quite out of working order, because they were clogged 
up with dust and dirt. I tried many of them, and 
at last found one that seemed to be in good working 
order, and to my joy I came across about fifty rounds 
of ammunition. Another serviceable rifle was found, 
so that Andrews and myself were filled with a new 
hope. 

" We'll die like Britons, at any rate ! " said Andrews. 
" We'll give a good account of ourselves before we 
go ! " And I agreed with him. 

We were now some distance from the Turks, and 
I was terribly anxious to shoot at them ; but Andrews 
was more cautious. " If you fire they'll discover us, 
and we shall be done for ! " he said. Then we shook 
hands fervently, because we both believed that this 
was the last of us, and I know that in thought we 
both went back to our very early days and offered 
up our silent prayers to God. 

We had managed to crawl to a bit of shelter which 
was given by some burnt-out scrub, and here we tried 
to snatch some sleep, for we were both worn out. 
We went to sleep, for the simple reason that we 



HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. 11 

could not keep awake ; but I suddenly awoke, because 
the cold was intense and I was nearly frozen. Luckily 
there were a lot of empty sandbags lying about, and 
I got two or three of these and put them on top of us ; 
but they were really no protection from the bitter air. 

When the morning came we made a move, and for 
the first time we were able to get some water; but 
only by taking the water-bottles from the poor chaps 
who had been knocked out. 

Then we crept back to our shelter, finding immense 
relief from drinking the water we had got, though it 
was quite warm and was, I fancy, from the Nile. 

We slept, or tried to sleep, there for the rest of that 
night, and stayed in the place till next morning. We 
must have been in what is called " dead ground," 
a region which cannot be seen or touched by either 
side, and so it proved to be, for in the early morning 
there was a real battle and the bullets were singing 
right over our heads. 

44 There's more lead flying about than there was 
yesterday," said Andrews; and really some of the 
bullets were splashing quite close to us — within six 
feet, I think, though there were not many that came 
so near. 

Andrews was bleeding terribly — every time he 
moved he bled ; but I did the best I could for him with 
my iodine — I dressed him with mine, and he dressed 
me with his, and splendid stuff it is. Though we 
had nothing to eat we did not really feel hungry now — 
we were past the eating stage. I was very lucky in 
having four cigarettes and some matches and I risked 
a smoke, the sweetest I ever had in my life. 

Again we stuck the awful day through. 

I was terribly anxious to move and get out of it 



12 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

ail at any cost ; but still Andrews was very cautious. 
" No, we won't try till it gets dark," he said. I felt 
that he was right, and so we waited, as patiently as 
we could, for the night. Three or four yards from us 
was an inviting-looking bush, and we crawled towards 
it, thinking it would help us to get away and give us 
shelter ; but at the end of our adventure we discovered 
that we had done no more than crawl to the bush, 
crawl round it, and get back to our original hiding- 
place; so we decided to give up the attempt to get 
away just then. 

When the third night on the hill came we were 
fairly desperate, knowing that something would have 
to be done if we meant to live, and that certain death 
awaited us where we were. We had nothing to eat, 
and the only drink was the water, which was frightful 
stuff — I believe it was Nile water which had been 
brought. But though it was, we were thankful to 
have it. The water was warm, because of the heat, 
and was about the colour of wine. 

We did not for a moment suppose that we 
should live to reach the British lines, which we 
believed to be not far away; but we risked 
everything on the effort, and in the moonlight we 
began to wriggle off. We had managed to get no 
more than half a dozen yards when Andrews had to 
give it up. I myself, though I was the stronger and 
better of the two, could scarcely crawl. Every 
movement was a torture and a misery, because of 
the thorns that stuck into us from the horrible 
scrub. 

We had kept the sandbags, and with my help 
Andrews managed to get them over his arms and up 
to his shoulders. I fastened them with the pieces 




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HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. 13 

of string they have, and these gave him a good deal 
of protection, though the thorns got through and 
punished us cruelly. I was picking them out of my 
hands for three weeks afterwards. 

Having crawled these half-dozen yards, we gave 
up the attempt altogether, and did not know what to 
do. We could see a cluster of trees not far away, 
about a hundred yards, and there was one that looked 
fairly tall. 

" If we can get to that tree," said Andrews, " I 
could lie there, if I had some water, and perhaps 
you could strike some of our chaps and bring help." 
I had little hope from such an effort as that. Then 
Andrews unselfishly urged me to look after myself; 
but, of course, I would not dream of leaving him. I 
offered to carry him, and I tried, but I was far too 
weak. 

What in the world was to be done? How were 
we to get out of this deadly place ? There seemed 
no earthly hope of escape, when, literally like an 
inspiration, we thought we saw a way out. 

Just near us was an ordinary entrenching shovel, 
which had been dropped, or had belonged to some 
poor chap who had fallen — I can't say which, but 
there it was. I crawled up and got hold of it, and 
before we quite knew what was happening, Andrews 
was resting on it, and I was doing my best to drag 
him out of danger. 

I cannot say whose idea this was, but it is quite 
likely that Andrews thought of it first. He sat on 
the shovel as best he could — he was not fastened to 
it — with his legs crossed, the wounded leg over the 
sound one, and he put his hands back and clasped 
my wrists as I sat on the ground behind and hauled 



14 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

away at the handle. Several times he came off, or 
the shovel fetched away, and I soon saw that it would 
be impossible to get him away in this fashion. 

When we began to move the Turks opened fire 
on us ; but I hardly cared now about the risk of being 
shot, and for the first time since I had been wounded 
I stood up and dragged desperately at the shovel, 
with Andrews on it. I managed to get over half a 
dozen yards, then I was forced to lie down and rest. 
Andrews needed a rest just as badly as I did, for he 
was utterly shaken and suffered greatly. 

We started again at about a quarter past six, as 
soon as the night came, and for more than three 
mortal hours we made this strange journey down the 
hillside; and at last, with real thankfulness, we 
reached the bottom and came to a bit of a wood. 
Sweet beyond expression it was to feel that I could 
walk upright, and that I was near the British lines. 
This knowledge came to me suddenly when there 
rang through the night the command : " Halt ! " 

I obeyed — glorious it was to hear that challenge in 
my native tongue, after what we had gone through. 
Then this good English sentry said, " Come up and 
be recognised ! " not quite according to the regula- 
tion challenge, but good enough — and he had seen 
us quite clearly in the moonshine. 

Up I went, and found myself face to face with the 
sentry, whose rifle was presented ready for use, and 
whose bayonet gleamed in the cold light. 

" What are you doing? " said the sentry. " Are 
you burying the dead ? " 

I saw that he was sentry over a trench, and I went 
to the top of it and leaned over the parapet and said, 
" Can you give me a hand ? " 



HOW TROOPER POTTS WON THE V.C. 15 

" What's up ? " said the sentry, who did not seem 
to realise what had actually happened — and how 
could he, in such a strange affair ? 

" I've got a chap out here wounded," I told him, 
" and I've dragged him down the hill on a shovel." 

The sentry seemed to understand like a flash. He 
walked up to the trench, and when I had made myself 
clear, three or four chaps bustled round and got a 
blanket, and I led them to the spot where I had left 
Andrews lying on the ground. We lifted him off 
the shovel, put him on the blanket, and carried him 
to the trench. These men were, I think, Inniskilling 
Fusiliers, and they did everything for us that human 
kindness could suggest. They gave me some rum 
and bully beef and biscuit, and it was about the most 
delightful meal I ever had in my life, because I was 
famishing and I was safe, with Andrews, after those 
dreadful hours on the hillside, which seemed as if 
they would never end. 

When we had rested and pulled round a bit, we 
were put on stretchers and carried to the nearest 
dressing-station. Afterwards we were sent to Malta, 
where Andrews is, I believe, still in hospital. 

The granting of the Victoria Cross for what I had 
done came as a complete surprise to me, because it 
never struck me that I had done more than any 
other British soldier would have done for a comrade. 

I never lost heart during the time I was lying on 
Hill 70. All the old things came clearly up in my 
mind, and many an old prayer was uttered, Andrews 
joining in. We never lost hope that some way out 
of our peril would be found — and it seemed as if our 
prayers had been answered by giving us this inspira- 
tion of the shovel. 



CHAPTER II 

A PRISONER OF WAR IN GERMANY 

[For nine weary months, including the whole of an un- 
commonly bitter winter, the teller of this story, Corporal 
Oliver H. Blaze, 1st Battalion Scots Guards, was a prisoner 
of war in Germany. Corporal Blaze was on outpost when he 
was severely wounded and captured, and his subsequent ex- 
periences give proof that in this momentous struggle we are 
fighting a people who are incapable of understanding the laws 
of honourable combat, and who, in the interests of humanity 
and civilisation, must be crushed. Corporal Blaze is a fine 
type of the splendid Guardsmen who have done so much in 
this great war to add to their own glory and the noble repu- 
tation of the British Army.] 

I hardly know where to begin my story, but perhaps 
I might start with a little tale of an air fight, because 
a night or two ago I happened to be in the streets 
when German airships raided London, and I could not 
help recalling the difficulty of hitting even a huge 
object like a Zeppelin in the night-time. 

In the early days of September 1914, when we had 
got used to fighting, the battalion was on the march 
when a German aeroplane, decorated with two Iron 
Crosses, was sighted. At that time we were more 
than a thousand strong, and the lot of us opened fire 
with our rifles, rattling away with rapid fire, so that 
we soon accounted for about fifteen thousand rounds. 
At the same time another battalion not far away was 
on the job, so that a perfect fusillade was going on. 
The firing was tremendous, but it seemed as if the 

16 



A PRISONER OF WAR 17 

machine would not be touched. At last, however, 
the aeroplane was brought down, the observer being 
dead and the other man severely burnt and wounded. 
I do not know whether it was our battalion or the 
other which got the machine ; but I called to mind 
the great difficulty of hitting an aircraft when I 
watched the raid on London. I was walking along, 
too pleasantly occupied to be thinking of war, and 
did not know of the affair until I reached a street 
corner and saw the people craning their necks sky- 
wards, watching the airship and the shells that were 
bursting under it. 

Mons, Cambrai, the Marne and the like make an old, 
old story by this time, so I will get on to the tale of 
my nine months' captivity in Germany, as a prisoner 
of war. 

It is common knowledge now that the Germans 
never lost a chance of trying to do something by 
treachery and trickery and not playing the game. 
Killed and wounded English soldiers were robbed of 
their coats by the Germans, who took them for their 
own use; and dressed in these coats the enemy on 
several occasions tried to get near us, to their heavy 
cost, when we got accustomed to the dodge. 

One day, early in September, not long after we 
had gone out with the Expeditionary Force, a German 
machine-gun brigade came along, dressed in our 
uniform. We thought they were reinforcements, so 
we let them get very close and they occupied a ridge 
on our left. Ten minutes afterwards they opened 
fire on us; but our garrison artillery soon shifted 
them with sixty-pounders. The Germans killed a lot 
of the Coldstreams that day by this trick. 

It was not long after this that we had one of those 
c 



18 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

experiences which have been so often known in this 
great war. We were marching along in brigade 
column, with the Black Watch or Coldstreams, I am 
not sure which, leading. We were going through an 
area which had been reported all clear, and had got 
to a bend in the road, when the Germans started shell- 
ing us. It was one of those swift happenings which 
cannot be avoided in such a war as this, and before 
we fully realised what was taking place, a shell had 
burst and killed four stretcher-bearers of the Cold- 
streams, the N.C.O. who was in charge, and a wounded 
man who was being carried on a stretcher; and the 
same shell wounded a man in our front section of 
fours. That one shell did a fair lot of havoc, and 
it was quickly followed by several more; but these 
did not do much mischief. 

What struck me most in this little affair was the 
coolness of our CO., Colonel Lowther, now a brigadier- 
general. He personally conducted every company 
from the left of the road into a ditch on the right of 
the road. 

" Keep cool, men," he said, " and come this way." 
And we did keep cool, for the colonel took the direc- 
tion of everything, in spite of the shelling, just as 
calmly as if he was carrying out a battalion parade 
at home — a really wonderful performance at a time 
like that, and one which completely steadied the lot 
of us, though we had got pretty well used to things. 

But the Germans did not have a look in for long, 
for the Kilties got hold of the gunners and chased them 
off. I did not see much of it, except in the distance ; 
but we heard the shouting as the Jocks got to work 
with their bayonets. 

As we were going along the road we saw where the 



A PRISONER OF WAR 19 

Germans had put out of action a whole battery of our 
artillery which was standing at the side of the road. 
The weather was dull and it started to drizzle, so 
that it was not easy to distinguish troops. While 
the battery was being knocked out some of our fellows 
— the Loyal North Lancashire, I think — were advanc- 
ing across a field. To protect themselves from the 
rain they had covered themselves with their water- 
proof sheets. Seeing them, and not being able to tell 
who they were, but believing them to be Germans, 
our gunners opened fire on them; but what damage 
they did I don't know. That was another of those 
things that will happen in war, and it could hardly 
be helped, for about this time it was a common dodge 
of the Germans to disguise themselves in British 
uniforms and attack us before we could tumble to 
the trick. 

When we had crossed the Aisne and had got into 
the hills we had grown wary, and in crossing fields 
and open spaces we went in artillery formation, or 
" blobbing," as it is called. This " blobbing " was 
a splendid way of saving the lives of men when we 
were under fire, for it kept us in platoons closed, but 
200 yards between each platoon, and so enabled us 
to escape a good many of the bursting shells. 

We went along a whole stretch of country till we 
reached a small village and billeted there. In the 
morning we were on the move again, driving the 
Germans from one crest to another, but their position 
was too strong for us to shift them any farther, and 
then it was a long monotonous job of hanging on and 
waiting. They are practically in the same place now. 

We did a lot of bayonet work from time to time ; 
but I can't say much about it, I know that in one 



20 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

affair I saw a German. I stuck and he stuck — and 
I don't remember any more — one goes insane. I got 
a bang on the back of the head from somebody, though 
I thought at the time that a stone had been thrown 
and had struck me. I remember that day well — Sep- 
tember 14th — because in addition to the charge I saw 
a Jack Johnson for the first time, though we chris- 
tened them Black Marias and Coal-boxes then. This 
monster burst amongst some French Algerian troops, 
and shot a lot of them up into the air, literally blow- 
ing the poor devils to pieces. 

On October 19th we marched away and moved by 
train, finally getting to Ypres. We dug trenches in 
a ditch on the night of the 22nd and occupied them, 
and on the morning of the 23rd I went on outpost 
duty, little dreaming of the fate that was in store for 
me. At that time shells were dropping very heavily 
between our line of trenches and a village not far 
away which was supposed to be occupied by the 
French. 

It was about six o'clock in the morning when I 
went out with my patrol, of which I was corporal 
in charge. There were four of us altogether, and 
we were put on outpost duty in what proved to be a 
very warm corner. The shelling went on all day, 
and we were looking forward to our relief; but it did 
not happen to come, and so we had to hold on. The 
day passed and the night came, and it was not long 
after darkness that we knew that a strong rush was 
being made on us by the enemy — they proved to be 
the 213th Lancfwehr Battalion of Prussian Infantry. 

I saw that we were being rushed, and I knew that 
our chance of escape was hopeless. I thought very 
swiftly just then, and my thought was, " We can't 



A PRISONER OF WAR 21 

get away, so we may as well stick it. If we bolt we 
shall be shot in the back — and we might just as well 
be shot in the front ; it looks better." 

They were on us before we knew where we were, 
and to make matters worse, they rushed upon us from 
the direction of the village where we supposed the 
French to be. 

There was a scrap, short and sweet, between our 
outpost and the Germans, and almost in the twinkling 
of an eye, it seemed, two of my men were killed, one 
got away, and I was wounded and captured. 

A bullet struck me in the right arm and I fell down, 
and the Germans were on me before I knew what was 
happening. I still had my equipment on, and to 
this fact and the prompt kind act of a wounded Ger- 
man — let us be fair and say that not all Germans are 
brutes : there are a few exceptions — I owe my life, 
for as soon as I fell a Prussian rushed at me and made 
a drive with his bayonet. Just as he did so, a wounded 
German who was lying on the ground near me grabbed 
me and gave me a lug towards him. At this instant 
the bayonet jabbed at me and struck between the 
equipment and my wounded arm, just touching my 
side. The equipment and the wounded German's 
pull had prevented the bayonet from plunging plump 
into me and killing me on the spot, for the steel, 
driven with such force, would have gone clean through 
my chest. That was the sort of tonic to buck you 
up, and I didn't need a second prick to make me 
spring to my feet. 

I jumped up, and had no sooner done so than a 
second bullet struck me on the wounded arm and 
made a fair mess of it, and I knew that this time I 
was properly bowled out, 



22 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

I had fallen down again and was lying on the 
ground, bleeding badly; and the next thing I knew 
was that I was being stripped. Everything I had on 
me, my equipment and my clothing, was taken away ; 
not for the purpose of letting a doctor examine me, 
as one did later, but as part of a system of battlefield 
plunder which the Germans have organised. 

The very first thing the doctor said when he saw 
the wounds was " Donnerwetter ! " I was taken to 
a barn and left there till morning. I had treatment, 
then I was moved into another barn. The Germans 
were decent over the business, and there was no 
brutality or anything of that kind. I had been taken 
from the second barn, and was being carried across 
a field, when the ambulance was stopped by a German 
doctor who was on horseback. He looked at my arm, 
and instantly said that it would have to be amputated 
right away, as mortification had set in ; and so, lying 
on the stretcher, which had been put down in the 
field, and round which a small green tarpaulin had 
been rigged to keep the wind and cold out, my arm 
was taken off. Injections had been made in the arm, 
and I felt no pain during the operation, which I 
watched with great interest. The doctor who per- 
formed it had studied at Guy's Hospital and spoke 
English well. When I had been removed to a Ger- 
man hospital in Belgium he saw me every morning, 
noon, and night, and I had exactly the same food 
as the Germans, while the old inspector of the 
hospital used to give me custard and fruit now 
and again, when he thought no one was looking; 
and I had cigarettes and cigars issued to me just 
the same as to their own men. 

I was in this hospital in Belgium for a fortnight, 



A PRISONER OF WAR 23 

and was then moved into Germany, being sent to 
Miinster, in Westphalia, with a lot of wounded Ger- 
mans. It seemed as if, in leaving Belgium, I had 
said good-bye to civilisation, in view of what happened 
during my imprisonment in Germany. 

I very soon made acquaintance with German 
brutality to British prisoners of war — brutality and 
cowardice, of which I saw constant signs in my cap- 
tivity; I say cowardice advisedly, because only a 
coward will hit and bully a man who can't hit 
back. On that point, however, there is some consola- 
tion. It was practically a death matter to strike a 
German soldier, even under great provocation; but 
if you were struck first, you had your remedy, and 
nothing pleased a British soldier more than to be 
struck, because that gave him his chance, and many 
a hard British fist got home on a fat German jowl. 
I shall always be thankful to know that I got one or 
two in on my own account, though I had only my 
left arm to work with. I did not, of course, strike 
until I had been struck first; but when I did hit out 
I got my own back, with a lot of interest. 

That is getting off the track a bit, so I will go 
back. At Miinster I was taken into a disused circus 
which had been turned into a hospital for prisoners, 
and when I got there the doctor examined my wound. 
It was all raw, but he messed about to that extent 
that I fainted. Two mornings afterwards — they only 
dressed us every two mornings — I was lying on a 
table, to be dressed. The job was to be done by a 
young German student, a born brute, for I tell 
only the plain truth when I say that he deliberately 
cut the flesh of my only arm with his lancet and 
scissors. 



24 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

" English swine ! " he said. " He's had one arm 
off, and he ought to have the other off, too ! " 

This was the type of fellow who was let loose on 
wounded helpless British prisoners of war. 

Those dressings were horrible experiences, as a 
rule, for I was held down on the table by German 
orderlies, who had about as much feeling and com- 
passion as the table itself. 

Let me give another illustration of the German way 
of treating wounded British soldiers. Just after 
Christmas I was moved into an open camp at Miinster, 
and the only covering I had was a tarpaulin, the 
result being that I caught cold in my wound, and 
on January 2nd I was moved back into another 
hospital. I knew nothing whatever about the regula- 
tions of the place, so that I saw nothing wrong in 
walking along an ordinary looking passage. As I 
did this there came towards me a man who corre- 
sponds in rank to our regimental sergeant-major. I 
was suffering greatly from my stump, and was quite 
helpless; yet this fellow seized me by the scruff of 
the neck and the seat of the trousers and threw me 
out of the passage — and it was not till later that I 
learned that the passage led to the operating-room, 
and that patients were not allowed to use it. Such 
a thing could not possibly happen in a British military 
hospital containing wounded German soldiers. It is 
only fair to say that the food we got in hospital was 
good. 

Though my wound was not healed, I was sent away 
from the hospital and back to the camp. That was 
bad in some ways, but it had a fine compensation, 
for I was attended by two of our own medical officers 
of the Royal Army Medical Corps who were also 




[To face p. 24. 

A BRITISH SOLDIER HELPING A WOUNDED GERMAN PRISONER INTO 
A CONVEYANCE. 



A PRISONER OF WAR 25 

prisoners — Captain Rose and Captain Croker. I 
believe they have been exchanged now. I need not 
say what a joy it was to be looked after by our own 
splendid doctors, after my experience of German 
brutality and callousness. 

Time passed slowly and very wearily, and the 
monotony became deadly. It was bitterly cold, and 
snow fell heavily and constantly till about April. We 
did our best to keep cheerful and fit, and were always 
thankful when we could get a chance of playing games. 
Sometimes we played football with our sentries ; but 
they were sorry sportsmen, and could not endure 
being beaten, even in fair football. There were some 
Royal Welsh Fusiliers amongst the prisoners, and 
three footballs had been sent out to them. These 
footballs reached the camp safely, and everybody 
was hugely pleased with them. We got up a match 
between a British team and the German sentries, and 
beat them six to one. It was a straightforward, honest 
match, and a fair and square win; but the Germans 
could not stomach it, and for three days our smoking 
was stopped. No reason for the stoppage was given ; 
but we knew well enough what the cause was, 
especially as the order applied only to the British 
prisoners of war. 

I will give another instance of the utter smallness 
of the German spirit. On the night of the day when 
Italy declared war on Austria we were sitting out- 
side our wooden huts singing our own National 
Anthem, the "Marseillaise," " Rule, Britannia," and 
lighter compositions such as " Hi ! Tiddley hi ti ! " — 
in fact, anything that came to mind, just to keep 
things moving and cheerful. Then the news of Italy's 
decision came and fairly struck the Germans dumb, 



26 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

No reason was given for the steps they took against 
us — though we knew perfectly well what the cause 
was — but our smoking was stopped for seven days. 
Some of us were locked in the lavatories for twenty- 
four hours, and for twenty days our meat was stopped, 
so that we were almost starved. And on top of all 
this, two Englishmen and a Belgian were sent to a 
punishment camp. God knows what happened to 
them. 

During all this bitter winter weather we were 
accommodated in wooden huts, which we had been 
put to build ourselves. We did not mind that in 
the least, because we were thankful to be employed. 
But it was almost impossible to keep warm in the huts, 
owing to our scanty clothing and the small number 
of stoves. There were two stoves in each room, but 
we were only allowed one small box of coal — some- 
times coke — daily for each. Generally speaking, the 
British prisoners could not get near the stoves be- 
cause of the foreign prisoners who crowded around 
them, all day long, swathed in a pair of blankets. 
To add to the misery of the life, the bedding was 
horribly verminous, and we were only allowed to 
have one wash a day. That solitary wash was early 
in the morning, and we could not get any more, 
because the wash-house was closed after 7 a.m. 

The food was very poor, and there was not enough 
of it. There was plenty of soup of a sort — and well 
there might be, for it was mostly water — and there 
were solids of a kind for which an Englishman has no 
liking — chestnuts, potatoes and horse beans — poor 
stuff after the splendid rations we had had as British 
soldiers from our own Army Service Corps. The 
drinks were as bad as the solids. We had what was 



A PRISONER OF WAR 27 

called coffee given to us; but there was not much 
difference between the coffee and the soup. As for 
clothing, no real attempt was made to supply us, 
though in so many cases we had been stripped naked 
when captured. When I went out of camp, just 
after Christmas, I had only a pair of trousers and a 
pair of sabots, wooden shoes, and I should have fared 
badly if I had not been lucky enough to receive an 
old cycling jacket which my mother had sent out 
to me. 

The following statement will show exactly how and 
when we were fed each day : — In the morning, at six 
o'clock, we had " coffee," made from burnt rye, but 
nothing to eat ; at twelve noon, soup, with a plentiful 
supply of water in it and any one of the following 
ingredients : chestnuts, potatoes, horse beans, sauer- 
kraut, acorns. At 12.30 to 1 p.m. there was an issue 
of bread, the loaves being about 2| in. by 6 in. 
by 2 in. At 3 p.m. there was " coffee," as at 6 a.m., 
but nothing to eat ; and at 6 p.m. there was soup, as 
for dinner, but no meat, fish or cheese. By this 
you will see that we had nothing to eat from 6 p.m. 
till noon the following day — a period of eighteen 
hours. We had a small piece of meat three times a 
fortnight, cheese once a week, and two raw herrings 
a week. 

As for passing the time, it was one long dreary 
" roll on, night." Cards, draughts, football, and 
causing as much trouble as we dared to the Germans, 
with a little singing, formed our only means of keep- 
ing sane. Nearly everybody had to work at some- 
thing or other, the hours of work being 7 a.m. to 
11.30 a.m. (empty stomachs), and 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. 

There was only one occasion when we had a little 



28 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

change from the bad treatment, and that was when 
a batch of German prisoners of war, who had been 
in England and exchanged, returned. They must 
have told how splendidly they were treated in Eng- 
lish hospitals — which, as I know, are paradise com- 
pared with German hospitals — for we were better fed 
and looked after for a time. This improvement did 
not last long, however, and we went back to the old 
ways. Germans can't keep a good thing going. 

German cunning and lying soon made themselves 
evident, for under the guise of voluntary work a lot 
of the prisoners of war were obliged to work in mines 
and ironworks, and by being forced to do these things 
they were really helping to fight their own people. 

The way the trick was done was this — Germans 
came round and asked prisoners to volunteer to act 
as waiters, and a lot of us readily agreed, because 
any sort of employment was better than awful idle- 
ness. But the " waiters " soon learned that they 
had been shamefully deceived, for they were sent 
into mines and ironworks and on to farms. It was no 
use to protest, because it was a case of work or no 
food. There was so little to eat in the ordinary way 
that poor fellows could not face actual starvation, 
and so they worked unwillingly. I was asked to go 
and work in the fields, but I was quite incapable of 
doing this, and so I told the camp commandant, who 
put me into the office. 

I had had experience of orderly-room work with 
the Guards, and felt quite at home at this job — and 
it was interesting, too, for I was in the extraordinary 
position of being a sort of censor ! 

My duty was to handle letters from England for 
the prisoners, and see that no news, or cuttings from 



A PRISONER OF WAR 2d 

newspapers, or other forbidden things got through. 
There were three of us doing this work — two ser- 
geants and myself, one sergeant being in charge of 
the parcels. I naturally did the best I could for the 
prisoners. This office work was both interesting and 
exciting, and helped to get the time along. 

As for our privations generally, there was nothing 
for it but to make the best of them and grin and 
bear it. The American Consul at Miinster paid two 
visits to the camp while I was there, but no good 
came of them. Again the crafty German was pre- 
pared. It was known on each occasion that the 
Consul was coming — known two days before he 
arrived — so things were ready for him. He inspected 
only a few of the rooms, and the principal result of 
the first visit was that our dinner was two hours 
late. We made complaints, but nothing came of 
them, so when the Consul visited us for the second 
time and asked if there were any complaints to make, 
we bluntly answered, " No, it's no good making them, 
for nothing's done." The Germans instantly pub- 
lished in the local paper the statement, " The English 
are satisfied. They have no complaints." 

Constant attempts were made to escape, and I 
fancy that some of the prisoners gave up the whole 
of their time to plotting and planning ways of clearing 
out. The chance of getting away was small, because 
at night the camp, buildings as well as compounds, 
was brilliantly lighted by big electric arc lamps, and 
there were sentries and barbed wire entanglements 
everywhere. But in spite of all precautions several 
Belgians and a few Englishmen and Frenchmen 
escaped, and we were immensely pleased when we 
heard that one Belgian had got away by stealing the 



30 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

commandant's motor-car and bolting in it. I did not 
hear what became of him. 

Brutal punishments were inflicted for the most 
trivial offences, such as smoking in forbidden places, 
and a common method was to tie a prisoner to a post, 
with his feet deep in snow, and leave him there for 
two hours, with an armed sentry over him. The poor 
wretch dare not move, if he did the brave warrior 
with the gun kicked him — the German is a fine hand 
at hitting when the other chap can't hit back. This 
savage cruelty had a terrible effect on some of the 
victims, and helped to make them the life-long wrecks 
that they now are. 

From Munster I was sent to Brussels for exchange. 
We were quartered in the Royal Academy, and 
naturally enough the Belgian women and children 
tried to give us things. When this was seen, the 
German wounded who were in the ouilding were 
ordered to turn the hose on, and they did. It was a 
great laugh, though, for it took them four hours to 
fix the hose — and then it would not work properly. 

The authorities suddenly decided that I should not 
be exchanged, because I was a non-commissioned 
officer, and I was sent to Wesel on the Rhine, where 
I stayed six weeks. I had to go into hospital again, 
because my wound would not heal — it never got a 
sporting chance. Ill treatment continued, and for 
reasons, mostly revenge, which Britishers would 
scorn. The chief of this hospital was an old man 
whose only son had been lost in a submarine that had 
been sunk by the British. I saw that something was 
wrong as soon as he appeared in the morning, and I 
felt that we should get it hot, though I did not know 
how. 



A PRISONER OF WAR 81 

The old doctor had all the English prisoners sent 
for, and incredible as it may seem, every wound that 
was healed was deliberately reopened and plugged, 
while wounds that were not healed were probed inside 
and all the newly-formed flesh was destroyed. Many 
of us suffered terribly for a long time as the result of 
the visit to us of the old man who had lost his son in 
fair fight. 

My wound was finally healed on July 25th, exactly 
nine months from the day on which my arm was 
taken off. 

My sole object now was to get away from the 
horrible country and the more horrible people, and, 
thank God, I managed to do it. The refusal to ex- 
change me was a bitter blow, but I soon pulled up 
and set to work to get away. Accordingly, when I 
reached Wesel, I reported myself as a private, and 
I was reckoned as a private and put in the list for 
exchange. I was sent to Aix-la-Chapelle. 

Soon after this I came away with other prisoners 
of war, and one of the most glorious moments 
of my life was when I set eyes again on Old 
England. 

There is one strange incident that I have kept to 
the last. 

I have said that when I was shot on outpost I was 
stripped. My jacket must have been thrown aside, 
for next day a chum of mine picked it up and put 
it in his pack, thinking I had been killed, and mean- 
ing to bring it home, if he lived, as a relic. During 
many a long day and hard fight he carried that extra 
burden in his pack — no little thing to do — then he 
himself was wounded and sent home. He brought 
my jacket with him, and now I have it, and shall 



82 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

always treasure it as a memento of my war-days. 
The jacket is smothered in blood. 

There are about 28,000 Britishers still in Germany, 
suffering as I suffered — some worse. They want 
releasing. The only way to release them is to end 
the war, and the only way to end the war is the co- 
operation of every man and woman, old and young, 
rich and poor, working for one object — Victory. 



CHAPTER III 

GASSED NEAR HILL 60 

[When the Germans plunged the civilised world into this 
appalling war, one of their big hopes was that the sons of the 
Motherland would desert her in the hour of her greatest need. 
Never was a greater miscalculation made, even in a war which 
has become notorious for enemy miscalculations, for her 
Colonies rallied round Great Britain in a manner that has 
covered them with lasting glory. A particularly splendid 
contingent hurried over from Canada to our shores, and went 
into the most severe training, lasting through an uncommonly 
bad winter. In due course it left England, and entered almost 
at once into some of the hardest and most deadly fighting of 
the whole campaign — the conflict at the village of St. Julien, 
in the region of the famous Hill 60, where many troops fell 
gloriously in repelling the attempts of the Germans to hack 
their way through to Calais. In their determination to suc- 
ceed, the Germans deliberately adopted the devilish device of 
poison-gas. How even that cowardly expedient failed is told 
in this story by Lance-Corporal R. G. Simmins, of the 8th 
Battalion Canadian Infantry, 90th Winnipeg Rifles.] 

When I recall my experiences at the front, I am 
particularly struck by the circumstance that the 
thing which stands out most clearly in my mind is 
not the actual campaigning, not the long and weary 
times in the trenches, not even artillery, rifle, or 
bayonet work, but the coming of the poison-gas. 1 
myself was gassed in the furious fighting at St. Julien. 
I will get right at things quickly. Towards the 
end of April the Canadian Division was holding a 
line near Ypres, which was not far short of three 
miles in extent. That line ran north-west from 
d 33 



34 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Poelcapelle-Paschendaile Road, and at the end joined 
up with the French. Three infantry brigades with 
artillery comprised the division, the first being in 
reserve, the second on the right of the third, and the 
third connecting with the French. 

We were in the salient of Ypres which was known 
to be weak, but the holding of which was of vast 
importance. I am proud to think that I am one of 
the Canadian Contingent to whom the big task of 
keeping back the German hosts at that point was 
given, and that I fought with men who gave their 
lives in stopping the German attempt to hack a 
way through to Calais, so as to have a very near 
blow at England. Placed as we were placed, it was 
possible to see the battle being fought on three sides, 
and this was uncommonly interesting. 

We were, of course, in trenches, quite near the 
Germans, but between us there ran a ridge which 
is known as a hogback, so that there was a somewhat 
formidable natural barrier between the opposing 
forces. We were so near to the famous Hill 60 that 
we heard the explosion there and the subsequent 
battle when we were in billets at Ypres. The hill 
had been mined with six or seven tons of dynamite, 
the explosion of which was enough to change even 
the appearance of the hill. 

There was a fine smart affair on the night of 
April 17th, when about a mile of German trenches 
was taken, and I saw about 2000 German prisoners 
being escorted away. Their uniforms were shabby, 
and their equipment was not what it ought to have 
been, but the men themselves appeared to be remark- 
ably fit and well cared for. 

We had gone into the trenches after marching 



GASSED NEAR HILL 60 85 

through Ypres, where the chimney-pots were tumbling 
about our ears, and we were expecting very hot 
times; but the hogback prevented us from seeing 
the Germans, and of course kept us out of their 
sight. But there were German snipers everywhere, 
and they took good care to harass us. 

I had charge of a section of bomb-throwers, and 
we did our best to hurl these strange but quite 
legitimate weapons at the enemy. At first the bombs 
were homely contrivances, made of jam-tins filled 
with explosives; but later they were made under 
War Office control, and were far superior to the 
primitive articles which we manufactured ourselves. 

In such a war and in such a place it is not easy 
to tell of what was done by individuals, because so 
many splendid acts are unobserved; but I call to 
mind the coolness and resource of my own platoon 
officer, Lieutenant McLeod. He was dashing all over 
the place, encouraging his men at every point, and 
doing things all round in fine style. I was talking 
to him quite a lot in the thick of things, and was 
specially struck by his calmness and the wonderful 
effect his example had upon the men. 

One outstanding performance of his was to run, 
in broad daylight, from battalion headquarters to 
the trenches — a pretty brave achievement, when you 
bear in mind that a running man presents an almost 
certain target to snipers. 

In this connection, I call to mind the case of a 
section commander who was in a trench. He wished 
that a certain thing should be done, and by way of 
indicating his desire he held up his hand, with palm 
extended. That must have been a small enough 
target, in all conscience, but it was no sooner in the 



36 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

air than it was pierced by five German bullets. If a 
hand can be so effectively fired at, what chance to 
escape has the body of a man ? 

This trench warfare was uncommonly exhausting. 
You never knew what was going to happen, or what 
you would be called upon to do ; but it was astonishing 
to find how soon you could adapt yourself to circum- 
stances. 

I recall an occasion when we had been forced to 
retire at one point and get into a communication 
trench; we were taken aback by the discovery that 
it was not deep enough. We had to dig ourselves in. 
That was not a hard matter for the boys who had 
their entrenching-tools, but I had lost mine, and the 
only thing left to do was to try rabbit tactics. So 
I began to dig myself in with my fingers, and I have 
a distinct recollection of tearing and scooping at the 
ground like an animal scuttling for shelter. Luckily 
the ground was soft and yielding, or I should not 
have had a chance with such poor tools. As it was, 
my fingers were torn and bleeding long before the 
digging-in process was completed. 

I have given you a general understanding of the 
task that fell to the Canadian Contingent to accom- 
plish ; but as I have said, it is not the actual fighting 
that dwells in one's memory. 

We soon settled down to the ordinary ways of 
war, and took them as a matter of course. While in 
training in England we had heard and read a good 
deal about the fighting, and had become accustomed 
to it; while as for any such discomforts as heavy 
rain and sodden ground, they did not trouble us. Not 
even Flanders could give us worse trials of this sort 
than we had known while wintering on Salisbury Plain. 



GASSED NEAR HILL 60 37 

The boys took the fighting and the hardships as 
part of the day's work, and there was neither grum- 
bling nor protesting; but that state of things was 
changed like magic when there was sprung upon us 
the most cowardly, dastardly, and dirty means of 
fighting that the world has ever known. This was 
the use of poison-gas by the Germans — a device 
which instantly put them out of consideration as 
civilised combatants, and stamped them for ever as 
dishonourable soldiers of a dishonoured country. 

This poison-gas came upon us unseen, insidiously, 
and without the slightest warning in the one case; 
and in the other it rolled down upon us literally as 
a cloud. 

It is hard to speak calmly of this unprecedented 
form of warfare, but I will try to tell exactly what 
happened, and I think I can do that, because when 
I was a medical student I particularly interested 
myself in chemistry. 

It was on Saturday, the 24th, that our Brigade 
had their first experience of gas. We had been 
shelling the German trenches all day, and were 
standing to, expecting an attack by the enemy. We 
naturally looked for the employment of the usual 
methods, and were ready to receive the Germans 
when they showed themselves. We were strongly 
entrenched, and many a keen eye was kept on the 
hostile ground, watching for the appearance of the 
enemy. But not a sight of a German was to be had ; 
there was no commotion, no excitement, no appear- 
ance of anything uncanny or uncommon, yet there 
was coming towards us a German weapon which was 
neither honest artillery nor small arms — poison-gas. 
There was nothing to be seen in the air, yet 



38 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

suddenly, and without any apparent cause, we were 
overpowered by a smell exactly like nasturtium, but 
infinitely stronger and more pungent. The similarity 
noticed is remarkable, for doesn't nasturtium come 
from Latin words which really mean a nose-twister? 
Anyway, there we were in our trenches, unexpectedly 
overpowered by a horrible acrid smell and an invisible 
gas. 

A lot of the boys — fine, splendid, honest fellows, 
who did not understand the meaning of any kind of 
warfare that is not honourable and aboveboard, were 
utterly unable to fathom the mystery, and they 
seemed to think that it was the kind of pest that had 
to be taken with the other discomforts of campaigning 
in the Low Country. 

" What the deuce is it? " they asked. 

It was not until the whole unspeakable visitation 
was over that most of the men realised what had 
happened, and that the Germans had tried to blind 
us as a preliminary to annihilation. Like so many 
more of the German hopes, this did not develop on 
the lines that had been planned. 

This was the first poison-gas attack that we ex- 
perienced, and I am thankful to say that on the 
whole it was a failure; but when you remember that 
we were utterly unready for such a filthy form of 
fighting, and that we had no means of combating it 
or nullifying its effects, you will realise the extreme 
disadvantage of the contest from the point of view 
of the Canadians. 

I have said that it was about four o'clock in the 
afternoon when we had our first experience of the 
poison-gas. Now that I am talking of the thing it 
strikes me as a strange coincidence that it was at 



GASSED NEAR HILL 60 39 

about four o'clock in the morning when we had our 
second visitation. 

We had got into our stride and settled down to 
hard hammering and what you might call routine 
campaigning. Then came the morning of Saturday, 
April 24th, when the sun rose ten minutes before 
five o'clock, which means that at about four o'clock 
day was breaking. 

Most of us were asleep; but in war time there is 
no such thing as universal rest for men, and our 
sentries were posted and keeping watchful eyes upon 
the German lines. It is said that the darkest hour 
comes just before the dawn, and I think there is no 
doubt that man's lowest vitality is reached at that 
particular period. At any rate, the Germans probably 
thought so, for they planned a specially fatal attack 
upon us in the grey hours of this April morning. 

While looking round in the cheerless dawn one or 
two of our sentries saw a yellowish kind of cloud 
coming towards us, over the hogback, and travelling 
pretty fast. The sight was unusual enough to be 
noticed, but no one who saw it had the slightest idea 
what it really was, until we were enveloped in the 
filthy folds ; then we knew that it was poison-gas. 

The cloud rolled on, and as it got quite close to 
us I noticed that it was about eight feet or twelve 
feet high, a deep, dense yellow at the bottom, and 
becoming lighter towards the top, so diffuse, indeed, 
that it was almost indistinguishable from the atmo- 
sphere. It is not easy exactly to convey an under- 
standing of what the cloud really was, because few 
men have ever seen anything like it; but it might 
well be described as a moving mass of yellow, fat 
filth, insufferably loathsome. The poison-gas, the 



40 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

chief constituent of which I took to be chlorine, was 
about twice as heavy as air, and, consequently, it 
travelled along the surface of the ground. 

I saw the yellow cloud come, I watched it as it 
enveloped us, and I observed it as it rolled away 
behind us and went towards Ypres, gradually losing 
force as it was absorbed in the air. In addition to 
being so favourably situated, we had just had a rum 
ration — and plenty of it. I do not know whether the 
spirit did us any good, but it certainly did not do us 
the least harm, and may have helped to nullify the 
effects of the poison-gas. 

Our salient, vulnerable and undoubtedly attractive 
to the Germans, was rushed by them, and they 
succeeded in breaking through and occupying a 
trench about a hundred yards away from our own 
and parallel with it. They came on with wonderful 
steadiness, advancing just as if they were on parade, 
scarcely breaking step at all. They came out of their 
trenches about a dozen at a time, formed two long 
lines, and literally seemed to walk over into the 
trench, though we were peppering at them all the 
time. They kept up an excellent covering fire, with 
the result that a good many of our own men were 
shot. 

This was fair, open fighting, the sort of thing that 
a soldier expects, and into the spirit of which he can 
enter. It gave opportunities, too, for the display of 
the best qualities of warfare, and these were shown 
by a man I knew very well, Company Sergeant-Major 
F. W. Hall, of my company. In spite of a very 
heavy and at that time fatal fire, the sergeant-major 
rushed out from the shelter of his trench to bring 
in a wounded man who was lying in the open. He 



GASSED NEAR HILL 60 41 

seemed to bear a charmed life, for he got clear of the 
trench and was untouched by the fire of the enemy. 

The sergeant-major managed, by good fortune 
which seemed miraculous, to get as far as the wounded 
man; he seized him and started with his burden for 
safety. In fact he actually got him as far as the 
trench, then, when the worst seemed over and security 
was just within his reach, when he was getting over 
the parapet and men were loudly cheering him because 
of his success, he was shot and killed. But the un- 
common courage of the action had been noticed, and 
later on, to the real gratification of all the Canadians, 
and especially those who knew him, the announce- 
ment was made that the dead hero had been awarded 
the Victoria Cross. Hall's men were terribly shattered 
by the enemy's rifle and machine-gun fire; but in 
spite of it all they held their ground, and the living 
remnant won great glory. 

It was not long before I dropped. I did not 
recover till the fight had swept away to my right. 
Then I reported to an artillery officer who was near, 
and he showed me the way to Ypres, telling me also 
to go into the city for hospital treatment. 

I cannot close my yarn without mention of Captain 
North wood's Company — No. 4. The company was 
not relieved — it could not be, because of the heavy 
call on troops — but it fought on doggedly till two 
platoons were captured. Yet there were no prisoners 
made except at a bitter cost to the Germans. 

There were many heroes that day in No. 4 Company. 
I cannot name them all, but I must mention two of 
them who stand out pre-eminent — " Box-car " Kelly 
(now a King's Corporal), and Corporal Sandford. 
Kelly did everything in his power to rally some of 



42 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the British troops who were near him, while Sand- 
ford, a section-commander, did as much by his 
example of splendid courage as any officer I know. 

That is my story. 

If space permitted I might tell of Corporal Degan 
and his gallant band of hand-grenaders ; how they 
bravely fought when hemmed in by the enemy; of 
Lieutenant Owens, who stood with an automatic 
pistol in each hand, cheering and swearing in the 
same breath, defending his comrades and destroying 
the Germans ; of Sergeant Nobel (now a captain), who 
repaired a telephone-wire under an annihilating 
cannonade from German guns, and a score of other 
splendid fellows who utterly forgot themselves and 
their extremity, and risked their all upon the hazard 
of the glorious common cause. 



CHAPTER IV 

A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 

[A vivid understanding of the work which our soldiers did 
in Gallipoli during the earlier stages of the operations in the 
Dardanelles, and of the strange happenings which were of 
daily occurrence in righting the German-led Turks, is given 
by this story, which is told by Private John Frank Gray, 
5th Battalion Wiltshire Regiment.] 

Everybody knows how the transport River Clyde, 
with two thousand British soldiers packed in her, 
was deliberately run ashore on V Beach, at the 
southern point of the Gallipoli Peninsula. Great 
holes had been cut in her steel sides, to make doors 
through which the men could get ashore when she 
was hard and fast, without embarking in any sort 
of craft. Land they did, in the end, though they 
suffered heavily through the Turks' terrific fire. I 
did not see that famous and wonderful performance, 
but I disembarked, with my regiment, close to the 
transport while she was still aground. We had 
almost the same experience as the troops from the 
River Clyde had gone through. We forced a landing, 
in spite of barbed wire entanglements in the water, 
traps which had caught many a fine fellow and held 
him till the enemy's fire got him. It is odd to talk 
of wire entanglements in the sea, grabbing and tear- 
ing you as you plunge into the water, to wade ashore ; 
but there they were, one more new feature in a war 

43 



44 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

that has been full of strange and devilish things. 
Before we landed in Gallipoli we had experience of 
transport, trawler, barge and pinnace; and we were 
no sooner at the end of the voyage from England 
than we were under deadly fire and in the thick of it. 

We went right into the firing-line, and the Turks 
gave us more than a warm reception — it was hot. 
We were under fire all the time we were landing, but 
we had the uncommon good luck to suffer no loss. 
As we forced our way ashore we saw plenty of evidence 
of the desperate nature of the adventure of the men 
of the River Clyde ; but we were too much absorbed 
in our own affairs to pay much heed to what had 
happened to other fellows. 

We had got ashore on July 16th at Seddul Bahr, 
and stayed there all night. So that we should be 
as comfortable as possible we made dug-outs in the 
face of the cliff. The cliff at that place is very hard, 
and we had plenty of blasting to do, as well as work 
with pick and shovel. 

My mates and I had put plenty of elbow-grease 
into our own particular job, and had finished our 
dug-out and got into it, to be cosy for the night. 
It was very much like animals going to bed. We 
were worn out, and lost no time in going to sleep. I 
had gone off soundly and knew nothing till I was 
roughly roused by some fellows shouting, " Wake 
up ! Wake up ! Three of our chaps are buried 
alive ! " 

We did not need a second rousing. We all sprang 
up and rushed to a spot not far away, where we saw 
that there had been a fall of earth and rock, and 
we dug harder than we had ever dug before. At 
the end of it, having dug to a depth of three feet, 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 45 

and thrown the earth and rock away from us, we 
came across three poor chaps of my company who 
had been buried by a fall of earth, caused by them 
digging too far into the ground to give them shelter. 
They had undermined too much, and the earth-roof 
had collapsed and crushed them. We saw at once 
that there was no hope — the men looked as if they 
had been killed on the spot : they must have been 
dead an hour — but we put them on stretchers and 
the field ambulance men did all they could. But it 
was too late. Next day we dug graves for them 
and put crosses over. There are some fine grave- 
yards out there, well cared for, and with barbed 
wire fences to preserve them. While we were burying 
our comrades the Turks fired on us continuously, and 
this had to serve as the last volleys over the fallen. 
That solemn and tragic beginning of my experiences 
after landing at Gallipoli will never fade from my 
mind. 

Even at this early stage I noticed the extraordinary 
luck of war. Some of the King's Own Lancasters 
had been in the trenches for fourteen days, and 
during the whole of that time they had had only 
twenty casualties. They left the trenches and came 
right up alongside of us, on a little bit of a mound. 
The Turks must have got wind that a lot of troops 
were on the move, for the shrapnel came bursting 
over the lot of us, especially the Lancasters, who in 
less than half an hour lost more than forty men, 
fourteen being killed and the rest wounded. Four or 
five of our own fellows were hit, so that we escaped 
lightly, and were able to send our stretcher-bearers 
to give a hand in getting the wounded soldiers to 
hospital. 



46 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

The burying alive of men and the loss of men who 
had spent a fortnight in the trenches unscathed, were 
the things I saw when I was spending my first night 
in Gallipoli, so I can very fairly say that we landed 
right in the thick of it. It was a hot start, and it 
did not get cooler, for on the following morning, 
when we were on the way to the trenches at Achi 
Baba, we were under constant shrapnel fire. We 
crawled and crept up as best we could, using roads, 
or rather tracks, which had been made by the 29th 
Division. It was fearfully hot, we were heavily 
laden, and there was nothing but prickly scrub and 
rock and stifling dust about, and bursting shell all 
the time. But we forged slowly ahead, making the 
best of it, and thankful when we got into one of 
the little ravines which abound there, and make 
first-rate natural trenches — thankful because we got 
shelter without having to dig for it. In this advance 
some of our chaps fell, and the ravines formed their 
resting-places. The graves were filled in and crosses 
put over to tell how the soldiers had died. I might 
say here that whenever it was possible to do so, an 
Army chaplain read the Burial Service; but often 
enough a funeral had to take place with no chaplain 
near at hand. 

An advance like this is a slow business. You go 
in single file, keeping your heads well down, because 
of the stray bullets from snipers. The Turkish 
snipers are dead shots — I will tell you more about 
them later. At the end of our dodging and ducking 
and crawling in single file we got into a support 
trench, and I began to breathe a bit more freely, 
because I thought that here at any rate I was safe. 
But we had no sooner reached the front-line trenches 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 47 

than the Turks started shelling us, and very quickly 
I thought that the very end of me had come. There 
was a tremendous crash just overhead, then a horrible 
rumbling, then I was knocked down in a heap, and 
all I knew was that a shell had burst in the trench 
and that I was buried in a mass of earth and rock. 
I was bruised and stunned — so were four of my 
chums who were near me; but we had had better 
luck than the three poor fellows who had been 
buried by the fall of earth above them, and pretty 
soon we had worried our way out of the heap of 
muck and were staring at each other — and I shall 
never forget that incident, if it is only because of 
the stupid way in which we stared at each other, 
and never said a word. We were making tea when 
the shell burst, and were looking forward to a cosy 
meal; but here we were, staring at each other in 
surprise, wondering what the dickens the matter 
was, till we looked around and saw what sorry objects 
we were, and that the tea gear had been scattered 
all over the place. When we had got over our 
fright — and what's the use of saying that we weren't 
scared ? — we saw the grim humour of it, and laughed 
and pulled ourselves together, thankful that we were 
still in the land of the living. 

That was part of our early introduction to shell 
fire, and we very soon learned that you never know 
what sort of a trick a shell is up to. Shells are very 
deceiving. You hear their peculiar and horrible 
whistle and think that they are going to burst any- 
where except where they do. 

When we had pulled ourselves together we left our 
shattered trench and went into another part of the 
trench, to pull round a bit and get out of the shrapnel 



48 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

bombardment. But within three hours we were 
back again and settled down, wondering what the 
coming night had in store for us. We were in for 
another surprise, though at that time, of course, we 
did not know it. 

This surprise took the shape of an attack upon us 
by hand-grenades, or bombs. It was pitch dark ; but 
the blackness was lit up near us in patches, caused 
by the explosion of the bombs. We got half a dozen 
of them, and as it was clear that some Turks had 
crept towards us from their firing-line, which was 
only about 200 yards away, we sent out a sergeant 
and five or six men to hunt the bomb-throwers. You 
might as well have looked for a needle in a haystack 
as try to find Turks who were hiding in the darkness 
in the shrubs or the ravines; at any rate, our chaps 
did not see or hear anything of the Turks, and they 
had to come back without doing anything. There 
was no doubt that the Turks had crept up to us 
quite close and then hurled their bombs ; but we were 
lucky to escape with only one man slightly wounded, 
though if the bombers had had any luck we should 
have been blown to pieces. These intensely dark 
nights were always very trying because of these 
attacks. It was an immense relief when the moon- 
light nights came, because then the Turks dared not 
try their tricks on. There was always the guard, of 
course, two hours on and two hours off. This gave a 
great sense of protection ; but the guard work itself gave 
you the creeps. You were on the rack all the time, 
fancying that you saw some one approaching when 
as a matter of fact there was no one near. There 
was always the chance, too, of being picked off by 
a sniper who used horrible explosive bullets. One 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 49 

of our men was struck down, and when we went up 
to him and removed his helmet we saw at once that 
an explosive bullet had been used, for the skull was 
completely shattered. You could always tell when 
these awful things had been used, from the appear- 
ance of the sandbags. The bullets would strike and 
explode, and smash the sandbags so badly that it 
took us all our time to make the damage good. 
You dare not put even a periscope above the trench ; 
if you did a sniper got a bullet through it before you 
knew where you were. 

It was all tremendously exciting, and there was 
never a chance of being dull or downhearted. The 
system of trenches was amazing, turning and twisting 
everywhere in the most wonderful manner. We 
made the most of these complications, too, by naming 
the trenches Oxford Street, Regent Street, and so on, 
with Clapham Junction and the like for important 
junctions of trenches. These names, which were 
chalked up or put on boards, were most useful in 
helping you to find your way about, and sometimes 
very amusing misunderstandings arose. 

" Do you know where Oxford Circus is? " a chap 
asked me one day. 

" Rather ! " I told him, proud to throw light on 
his ignorance, and I began to tell him, till he cut 
me short by snapping that he wasn't talking about 
London, but the trenches. We got many a good 
laugh out of these little misunderstandings; for out 
at the front you are always ready to make the most 
of the smallest joke. You needed all the cheerfulness 
you could get, too, because of the awful sights that 
constantly met you and the endless peril you were 
in. I shall never forget one of the very first things 

E 



50 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

my eyes saw in those opening days of my campaigning 
in Gallipoli. We got to the spot at Achi Baba where 
the Munsters and the Dublin Fusiliers, during a 
gallant advance, had been enfiladed by machine-gun 
fire and literally mown down. From the trench we 
had occupied we could see the men lying just as 
they had fallen, while trying to take cover. There 
they were, on the open ground, absolutely riddled 
with bullets, and with their packs on, and their rifles 
and bayonets and everything else. They had been 
lying there for about a fortnight, because it was 
impossible to do anything in the way of burying 
them, owing to the enemy's incessant fire and sniping. 

Things hereabouts were particularly horrible. We 
went into a Turkish trench that had been taken, and 
started to make a fire-trench. We pulled away the 
old sandbags and dug away at the parapet with our 
picks. There was a horrible stench, but we were 
used to smells and did not take much notice of it 
till we found that the picks had a lot of foul stuff 
on them which we could not account for; but we 
soon discovered that the parapet was composed of 
the dead bodies of Turks which had been piled up 
and just covered with earth, the sandbags being 
placed on the top of the wall of corpses. 

In this same trench there was a well which had 
been covered with planks. Naturally enough we 
began to explore it, not that we expected to get 
anything to drink from it, and when we had removed 
the planks we found that the well, which we calcu- 
lated was ten or twelve feet deep, had a lot of dead 
Turks in it. We counted six of them, and had 
enough of the job, so we put the planks back, and 
felt that our curiosity had been satisfied. 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 51 

When we had been there four or five days and 
were getting used to the appearance of the country, 
we saw a Turk just peeping over the top of a little 
mound, with his rifle pointing towards us and in the 
attitude of firing. We felt sure that we had caught 
a sniper, and two or three shots were promptly fired. 
The Turk was still there, and it was clear that he 
had been shot. Later on we were able to get near 
him, and then we saw that he was black with flies 
and had been shot through the eye while sniping; 
but not shot by us, because when we shook him his 
head fell off, showing that he had been dead for 
some time. We saw another Turk who was sitting 
against a tree. We went up and found that he, too, 
was dead. He looked a mere skeleton; but he was 
swathed in clothing and equipment in the most 
extraordinary fashion. His trousers were all rags, 
and his tunic was all patches of differently coloured 
cloths; he had three shirts and two belts on, and we 
wondered how he had stuck so many clothes in such 
stifling weather. 

I had an exciting adventure one day — a bit too 
exciting to be altogether pleasant. I and another 
chap had been sent out to an artillery position which 
was called Clapham Junction Station, to get some 
corrugated iron. We had a long way — two and a 
half miles — to go, and it was necessary to keep to 
the cover of the trenches whenever we could do so. 
We were able to do that for most of the way, going 
through the very trenches which had been dug by 
the poor chaps of the Munsters and Dublin Fusiliers 
who had fallen. We got to the end of our journey, 
quite near the French lines, and then started back 
with our corrugated iron. Burdened in this way, we 



52 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

found that one of the trenches was too narrow for 
us to get along, and we were forced to make our way 
across open country for about 500 yards. As soon 
as we left the shelter of the trench the sun shone 
on our galvanised metal and gave the Turks a good 
target. We promptly had three or four shells 
bursting near us, and we lost no time in doubling 
over the open ground, staggering along with the 
iron sheets, and thankful when we were under shelter 
again, with a farewell shell or two to show us what 
a narrow squeak we had had. I picked up one of 
these shells, which had not burst, and kept it a long 
time, meaning to bring it home as a souvenir, but 
I found it a nuisance and had to throw it away. 

We were constantly seeing strange sights and 
learning how cunning the Turks were. One morning 
I saw some Australians bring in a Turk who was 
wearing one of our uniforms. The tunics had white 
patches on them, so that our artillery could dis- 
tinguish us, and it was one of these that the fellow 
wore. He had no doubt taken it from a dead British 
soldier, and so dressed, he had joined a party of 
Australians who were drawing water at a well. He 
kept his mouth shut, and might have gone undis- 
covered, but he and an Australian began quarrelling, 
then fighting, and that gave him away, because he 
could not speak English. They shot him, as a spy, 
the following morning. 

At the same place — I am now speaking of W Beach, 
where we were resting — we saw a Turkish sniper on 
the top of a hill. We sent out two or three times to 
try and get him, but failed ; but at last he was caught 
while robbing one of our fellows who was dead. The 
sniper had shot him, and now he was out for plunder. 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 53 

When we had this sniper in hand we found that we 
had got hold of a very dangerous customer, a man 
who had done a lot of mischief amongst our fellows. 
He had gone about his sniping in a very business-like 
way, and had established himself in a spot which 
commanded points which had to be continually 
passed by our stretcher-bearers and working parties. 
A good many of the R.A.M.C. chaps were hit, and it 
was curious that most of the wounds were about the 
knee. We discovered that these wounds were the 
result of the sniper's low firing — he was very near 
the ground and had pretty nearly complete control 
of this particular spot. Our fellows used to double 
round it for all they were worth, but they were not 
fast enough to dodge the Turk's bullets. When we 
examined his dug-out we found three rifles fixed on 
tripods, which were always trained on the spots 
where our fellows had to pass. In addition to that 
he had a machine-gun, and this he used for firing 
on our men when he knew that it was meal-time 
and that they were in clusters. It was a great relief 
when his account was settled. 

Aircraft fighting has developed enormously during 
the war, and I saw an exciting fight between three 
of our aeroplanes and two of the Turks. We had 
got a bit used to aeroplanes, for a Taube had swooped 
over us and dropped a chance bomb which blew 
up the quartermaster's stores. Three bombs fell 
about a hundred yards away, and I noticed that 
the noise they made when they came through the 
air was just like the whistle of a railway engine. 
In the fight I am talking about our fellows brought 
down one of the Turkish machines, and they made 
a hard chase after the other, but it got away. It 



54 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

was a really thrilling fight, and our chaps got tre- 
mendously excited over it. We had been warned 
of an attack from the air by three blasts on a 
whistle, and that was the signal to take shelter 
and to cover up the guns with tarpaulins, to hide 
them. During these attacks you are supposed 
never to look up, but the fight was so splendid 
and our chaps got so excited that the warning was 
forgotten in many cases, and chaps were peeping over 
the parapets and some were actually standing up on 
the parapets. Poor fellows ! Turkish snipers spotted 
them and got three with their bullets. I was only 
about a hundred yards away when they were killed. 
Their loss, which was a lesson to all of us, cast quite 
a gloom over our victory in the air. 

After being in the trenches at Achi Baba for 
sixteen days we went back to Lemnos, a big naval 
base about four and a half hours' distant by transport. 
We were supposed to have a week's rest, but we were 
at Lemnos only three days. At the end of that time 
we went back to the Peninsula and landed at Anzac, 
and went straight up to the firing-line, which had 
been made at Chunuk Bahr — and our 'regiment got 
absolutely cut up. It was one of the things that 
will happen in a war like this. 

We had gone up into the trenches and nothing 
much happened while we were there. After our 
spell in the trenches we were taken up into a gulley 
for twenty-four hours' rest and sleep. We were in 
high spirits at the prospect of such a change, and 
we took our equipment off and made a few dug-outs 
and got into them and settled down, and very com- 
fortable and contented we were. But our rest and 
peace were smashed at dawn on the following morn- 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 55 

ing, when we were thrown into confusion by a heavy 
Turkish attack. The Turks had advanced into the 
firing-line on the opposite side of the hill. There 
were plenty of them and they had machine-guns, 
while we were quite helpless, having no rifles nor 
equipment — indeed, many of us had not even our 
jackets on, as we were taking it easy. 

There was quite a stampede for the time being, 
and some one passed the order, " Every man for 
himself ! " It was a mistake, I am certain, but it 
added immensely to the confusion. That awful 
alarm caused some of our unarmed chaps to make a 
bolt for it, the result of temporary panic ; and now 
came one of those splendid bits of work which are 
the pride of every regiment, and which no one can 
do better than British soldiers. 

The adjutant, Captain Belcher, rallied about 
seventy of the men. He pulled them together, put 
heart of grace into them, and shouted to them to get 
their rifles and bayonets and follow him. There is 
nothing like an heroic example at such a time. The 
little band rallied round the adjutant, and with wild 
cheers and a gallant rush they hurled themselves 
upon the Turks, and such was the suddenness and 
fury of their attack that the Turks bolted like 
children — and big hefty chaps they were — with our 
fellows, some of them almost as small as dwarfs, 
tearing after them with the bayonet. In this furious 
affair one of our men got wounded and could not 
walk. The adjutant picked him up and began to 
carry him away. As he did so the Turks opened fire 
on him with a machine-gun, and he must have been 
riddled — I never saw anything more of him. At 
the same time Lieutenant Ratcliffe, who had been 



56 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

wounded, was being carried off on a stretcher. He 
seemed to think that the chance of escape was hope- 
less, and so he said to his bearers, " Put me down 
and look after yourselves, boys. I shall be all 
right." It was a hard thing to do, but the men 
obeyed, and all of us who could do so got away from 
that fatal spot, which we were far too weak to hold, 
in spite of the success of the adjutant's rally, and 
at last we got back to the beach. 

It was then that we compared notes and heard 
of what had happened in various places, and the roll 
having been called we supposed that every man who 
could escape had reached the beach. But two nights 
afterwards we formed a search party, and went back 
up the hill and were lucky enough to find and bring 
back with us about a dozen poor fellows who had 
been lying all that time on the battlefield. From 
this rescue we supposed that there must be other 
men alive at the top of the hill; but there was no 
chance of reaching them in the daytime, and we could 
not go at night, for the searchlights from our own 
warships swept the hillside and lit it up so brilliantly 
that any search party would have been shown up 
to the snipers. So we did no more, and soon we 
were forgetting ; for we were hard at work on fatigue, 
helping the Engineers to build a new firing-line, a 
trench about 1400 yards long. Then happened a 
thing so strange that it seemed beyond belief, like 
men rising from the dead. Fifteen days had passed 
since the fight, and no one dreamed that there could 
possibly be survivors, yet there appeared at the 
beach headquarters two terribly worn and haggard 
men, Lance-Corporal A. G. Scott of my company, 
and Private R. Humphries, another of our chaps. 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 57 

We were amazed to see them, and far more amazed 
to hear their story, which was that they and Private 
W. J. Head had been up in the hill for fifteen days 
and nights, unable to get away, and living on the 
biscuits and water that they had taken from the 
haversacks and bottles of dead men. The Turks, 
they said, used to pass them and shake hands with 
them, but would never give them any food or water. 
The three used to grope about in the daytime to 
get food and drink, and the Turks sniped at them 
whenever they got the chance. Head was quite 
unable to escape, having had two bad wounds. 
Scott and Humphries, desperate at last, crawled 
away and managed to reach our regimental head- 
quarters and tell their wonderful story, and it was 
no sooner heard than a search party was organised, 
and, with Scott and Humphries as guides, went back 
to the old fighting-place — a slow and dangerous job. 
On the first night they found nothing, but on the 
next night the relieving party came across three 
fellows and brought them down. Head was amongst 
them — he had been out getting more biscuits and 
water, and while doing so his right arm was smashed 
by a machine-gun which was trained on him. The 
body of the poor lieutenant was found, with several 
bayonet wounds, and he, like all the other officers 
who fell, had been completely stripped by plunderers. 
The bodies had not a thing on them. 

The survivors of those awful days and nights on 
the hillside — from August 10th to August 26th — had 
such a welcome as can be given only to those who 
return when they have been given up as lost, and 
Scott and Head and Humphries have been awarded 
the Distinguished Conduct Medal. There have been 



58 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

some extraordinary incidents in this war, but not 
many are stranger than this adventure of this little 
band of men for what must have seemed an endless 
fortnight, and none that will stand out more finely 
in the annals of the Wiltshires. 

There was so much to be seen and done in the 
three months I spent in the Near East that it is 
not easy to describe everything, and I must now 
mention only one or two things more. Very clearly 
in my mind stands out our attack on Chocolate Hill, 
after the warships had bombarded it for three days. 
We watched the naval guns at work, and saw the 
terrible havoc they caused — many a Turk we saw 
flying up in the air when the shells burst. When 
we advanced over Salt Lake we had to cross a hay- 
field, under a very heavy fire. The bursting shrapnel 
knocked many a fellow down, and we could not stop 
to help them or pick them up — and that was terribly 
hard on us, for the hayfield had taken fire and it 
meant that a lot of helpless men were burned alive. 
I saw one poor chap, a Yeoman, struck by shrapnel. 
This made him completely helpless for the time, and 
the fire got at him and burnt half his left leg off; 
but I am thankful to say that he managed, by a 
truly desperate effort, to crawl away, and he got out 
of it at the finish. We were in the advance, and as 
the field was catching fire just as we got out of 
it, we escaped the worst, which was to be caught 
in the middle, so that even those who were fit and 
could make a rush were badly burned and suffering 
intensely before they could get clear of the horrible 
ring of fire. 

I can tell you of an extraordinary incident that 
happened in the Chocolate Hill attack to a man of 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 59 

the South Wales Borderers. In the second bayonet 
charge he drove his steel into a Turk — and it broke. 
Off he dashed without his bayonet, and rushed with 
his chums to the next trench, where he plumped into 
a Turk who was crawling through a hole. Knowing 
that his broken bayonet was useless, he clubbed his 
rifle and let the Turk have the butt. The blow smashed 
the butt clean off, and the Borderer tumbled 
down. The Turk, who was not much hurt, sprang 
back from his hole, and jumped to his feet with the 
Englishman fairly at his mercy. Luckily for the 
Borderer a pal rushed up and saved him by settling 
the Turk. It was an extraordinary thing that the 
Borderer first broke his bayonet and then bashed 
his butt, which came off as clean as a whistle. 

Another thing that happened was this : An officer 
was wounded and fell. One of the men of his regi- 
ment heard the report that the officer was missing. 
" I'll go and find him," he said, and off he went. 
After an hour's search he found the officer and asked 
him if he could walk. " No," the officer told him, 
so the man picked him up and started to carry him 
— a hard and dangerous job. While the officer was 
being carried he was wounded again, a bullet striking 
him. " Put me down," he ordered, " and look after 
yourself." "No, sir," said the man; "if you're 
game, lam." And game he was, too, for he got him 
safely away, and the officer, to show his gratitude, 
made the man a present of his revolver and a silver 
flask. When the soldier rejoined his regiment they 
took the revolver away ; but he kept the flask as a 
memento, carefully wrapped up in all sorts of things, 
very proud of the gift from the officer, who had said, 
" I shall never forget you ! " The officer was mortally 



60 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

wounded, and died before they could get him into 
the hospital ship. 

It was round Chocolate Hill that we made our 
queerest find of all — women snipers. There was a 
kind of blockhouse which had been a farmhouse, and 
it had a very fine well, which had some very fine 
water — a precious thing. There was a big run on the 
well, and a lot of fellows were shot by snipers who 
could not be traced, till a fellow in a Welsh regiment 
swore that he could see some one moving in some 
trees not very far away. A machine-gun was brought 
up, and fifty rounds or so were fired into the trees, 
which dropped some very rare fruit — four men Turks 
and one woman Turk, all snipers. When we went 
up we found that they were almost naked, and had 
their faces and hands and bodies and rifles painted 
green to match the trees. And there they roosted, 
like evil birds, potting at our chaps whenever they 
got the chance, which was pretty often. This was 
such a good haul that firing was directed on all the 
trees, and more snipers were brought down, including 
several women. Some of the women wore trousers, 
like the men, and some had a kind of full grey- 
coloured skirt. They were as thin as rats, and looked 
as if they had had nothing to eat for months. I 
think there were six or seven women snipers caught 
in the trees, and it is said that the Turks have women 
in the trenches ; but I don't know if that is true. I 
saw one woman sniper who had been caught by the 
New Zealanders. I don't know what was done with 
her; but as the men came back they told us they 
had bagged her in a dug-out, where she had a machine- 
gun and a rifle, and that she seemed to have been 
doing a very good business in sniping. 



A LINESMAN IN GALLIPOLI 61 

Dysentery knocked me out in the end, and after 
spending a fortnight in hospital at Malta I had 
" H.S.B." — hospital-ship berth — put opposite to my 
name. I came home in a hospital ship, a foreigner, 
which made me thankful when I landed at South- 
ampton and entered a good old English hospital 
train bound for Manchester. 



CHAPTER V 



[" When the German blood-stained Eagle and its vulture-hearted 

Chief 
Made war on little Belgium, they held the fond belief 
The British Lion had grown too tame and dared not interfere ; 
But when old England called the roll, Australia answered, 

' Here ! * " 

That is part of one of the marching songs of the Anzacs, and 
it will go down to history as surely as "John Brown's Body" 
has descended to our own generation. It was written for a 
particular Australian battalion, but it applies to all the glorious 
regiments that have won immortality in Gallipoli. This 
Anzac's story shows how the sons of the Empire rallied to the 
call of the Motherland, and helped so much to carry out that 
unexampled undertaking in the Dardanelles of which our 
descendants alone can be the fairest judges. The narrator is 
Trooper Rupert Henderson, of the 6th Australian Light Horse.] 

I was a sheep overseer when I joined the Australian 
Light Horse. Before that I was a jackaroo on a 
twenty-thousand acre station. What is a jackaroo ? 
Well, a cross between a kangaroo and a wallaroo, 
and applied to a man, it means that he does any- 
thing that comes along. My boss's station was 
twenty-five miles from the nearest town; but that's 
nothing of a distance in Australia, and we used to 
have some merry parties when we had a day off, 
and drove or rode to the town for a change. And it 
was to the town that we swarmed just after the war 
broke out — bosses and men, rich and poor. A fine 
young fellow, a squatter's son, Mr. David McCulloch, 

62 




i^-is*: >• I 



AN ANZACS ADVENTURES 63 

wrote and asked me to join the Light Horse, and I 
gladly did. He tried hard to come, too, but the 
doctor would not pass him, and to his intense disap- 
pointment he was rejected. He came to see me twice 
while I was training, and both times he tried to pass ; 
but could not get through. That was the spirit which 
was shown when the call came out to us to go and 
fight the Germans and the Turks, or anybody else 
that British troops were up against. 

We went into camp at Rosebery Park, Sydney, 
which is a racecourse. The 1st Light Horse had 
to sleep in the stables; but we were comfortably 
camped. The hard floors of the stables were very 
different from the comfortable beds which had been 
left ; but the fellows were mostly horsemen from the 
country and didn't mind, because they were used 
to roughing it. 

Horses, saddles, equipment and uniforms were 
issued to us, and we were soon doing horse and foot 
drill. After six weeks of this training we went to 
Holds worthy, on the George's River, in the bush 
country. Snakes of all sorts swarm there — tiger 
snakes, black snakes, copperheads and deaf adders, 
all poisonous, as well as the carpet snakes, which are 
sometimes twenty feet long. They are gorgeous 
things, and look like bright-coloured carpets. They 
are non-poisonous, and our chaps let them coil round 
their necks and do all sorts of things. At this place 
there was the German internment camp, and already 
there were plenty of both military and civilian 
prisoners. The camp was not cleared — it was just 
barbed wire for a guard camp — but the country 
round it was being cleared. 

We were very lucky in our training, and after- 



64 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

wards, too, because we were under Colonel Cox — 
" Fighting Charlie," we called him — who had seen 
service in South Africa, and was a fine soldier. 

It was midsummer and harvest-time when, on 
December 17th, we left Holdsworthy for Sydney, and 
we had the remarkable experience of going through 
three summers in one year. We started with our 
own, which we left in the tropics, when we got to 
Egypt it was the Egyptian summer, and when we 
landed at the Dardanelles it was the Gallipoli summer. 

In Australia, of course, everything had given place 
to the war, and army lorries and so on had cut the 
roads up frightfully. They were full of ruts and 
holes and deep in dust ; but luckily a storm came on, 
and the rain made it possible for us to travel in 
comfort. 

I shall never forget that march to the transport to 
embark. We marched in the night-time, but all 
along the route the people were waiting for us. No- 
body seemed to have gone to bed, and as we marched 
along they cheered us and wished us luck. The 
people gave us drinks, and fruit, and handkerchiefs, 
and other souvenirs. It was a wonderful and moving 
sight, and the people kept it up right away to the 
Woolloomooloo Wharf at Sydney, where we embarked 
on board the White Star liner Suevic. We lay in 
harbour from Sunday morning till Monday afternoon. 
I was on guard all the time. We had plenty of 
visitors, some of them trying to get chaps out for a 
last spell ashore; but that had to be stopped, of 
course, and the officers sent the men down to stables. 
The horses of my squadron, C, were below; but 
the other squadrons had their horses on deck. 

I am not going to dwell on the last parting and 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 65 

send-off. We steamed away, and on Christmas Day 
we were six days out and two days' sail from Albany, 
Western Australia. When we got there we picked up 
a magnificent fleet of sixteen transports and the 
Australian submarine AE2, which was afterwards 
lost. Then the war seemed to be really with us, the 
Anzacs, the famous word which is formed of the 
initials of the words " Australian and New Zealand 
Army Corps." 

We came through Suez and Port Said, and did not 
go off the boats till we got to Alexandria. We stayed 
a night at Ismailia, and there, as the beginning of our 
fighting with the Turks, we came under their fire, 
or rather, we heard it. This made us feel that we 
were getting into things, and we listened with immense 
interest to the boom of the guns. At the same time 
we piled up our ship with bales of hay, as a protec- 
tion, and mounted machine-guns, and fervently hoped 
that the Turks would come on and give us a chance 
against them ; but we were not molested. They did 
not interfere with us then, but we soon had plenty 
to do with them. 

It was March 31st when C Squadron disembarked 
at Alexandria and got into the train, with Major 
White in charge. We went to Cairo, and then un- 
loaded our horses and took them, walking, to a place 
ten miles outside the city; and there, practically in 
the desert, we camped, and for three months we had 
steady mounted drill, which made us as fit as fiddles. 
We had real dry heat, and no rain, all the time ; but 
this did not trouble us, being Australians, and used 
to droughts. But we were glad when, at the end of 
the three months, the order came for us to pack up 
our kits and leave for the Dardanelles. We had the 



66 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

infantry kit served out to us, and in the middle of 
May we were back in Cairo, where we saw a lot of 
our chaps who had come back wounded from the 
Dardanelles. We found ourselves once more at 
Alexandria; and then, in two days we were at the 
Dardanelles, of which we had heard and talked so 
much, and where we had been so eager to go. 

We had left Egypt on a peaceful Sunday after- 
noon ; now we were in the very thick of a wonderful 
and exciting war, for we were being towed ashore 
in pinnaces, each holding about 250 men — half the 
regiment — and were under heavy fire. Gunboats 
were booming away, shells were bursting, and aero- 
planes were sweeping about the sky. All these 
things gave us a good idea of what was going on. 

How did we take it, not being used to the busi- 
ness ? Well, the chaps sat in the pinnaces and looked 
at one another, to see how they stood it. We were 
landing in broad daylight, the boats were packed, 
bullets were dropping all around us, sending nasty 
little spits of water up ; and bullets from rifles and 
machine-guns were whizzing over our heads. I was 
watching the impression it was having on the others. 
Some of our chaps were wearing war medals, and I 
made up my mind to carry on as they were doing. 
If they took it all right, so would I. 

They did take it all right. 

As the bullets dropped round us I heard such 
remarks as, " By Jove ! If that hit a fellow it would 
hurt him ! " Then men would laugh. 

Our colonel — I was sitting near him in the pinnace 
— looked stern and calm. He knew better than most 
of us what it meant. 

We were lucky in our landing, for we had no casual- 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 67 

ties ; but a lot of the other troops who were landing 
at the same time and in the same way were picked off. 
We lay off till one of the naval boats got alongside. 
We all tumbled into her and were taken to the beach 
for landing. 

The Turks saw us landing and gave us five shells, 
but these did not hurt anybody. We were told to 
hurry up; but we didn't need telling to do that, 
and as soon as the boat was at the shore we hopped 
on to a little wharf and found ourselves in the thick 
of some Indians who were unloading sheep. So 
little did we need telling to hurry up, that I well 
remember how we rushed through the sheep in our 
eagerness to get to shelter. 

We were in fine spirits and made the best of it; 
but as soon as we landed we realised what we were 
in for. A shell came and burst amongst a fatigue 
party, knocking the men about badly and wounding 
half a dozen, but luckily not killing anybody. This 
showed us how necessary it was to take cover, and 
when we had got some distance up the heights and 
were ordered to dig in, we set to work with a will, 
and we readily obeyed the order to keep our heads well 
down, as the shrapnel was bursting over the top of us. 

Our regiment was keeping well together. The 
colonel was in a gulley just below me when a shell 
burst over us. It seemed to be high, and we did not 
realise the danger of such explosions. This shell 
seemed to be harmless; but I soon discovered that 
a fragment or bullet of it had struck the colonel in 
the leg. As this was the headquarters the doctor 
was handy, and he attended to the colonel straight 
away, and sent him to the beach on a stretcher. 
Two minutes afterwards, one of the squadron clerks 



68 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

got shot with a shrapnel bullet. This also happened 
near me, and I saw what happened to him. The 
bullet struck him just by the right temple — he had 
the closest possible shave of instant death — and 
carried the eye away. This chap was put out of 
action at once, and was sent on to Malta. About ten 
days later he wrote to us saying what rotten luck 
he had had. But he was a cheerful soul and made 
the best of things, though he said, very truly, " I 
have only had a one-eyed view of Malta ! " 

We got dug in. There were holes in front of us, about 
four feet deep, with head covering, about two feet of 
earth, on top of us ; but these did not give much pro- 
tection from shells that burst just overhead. Some 
of the men filled empty biscuit-tins with earth and 
put them alongside to protect their legs from stray 
and spent bullets, and these proved very useful. 
When we had dug in we were ordered to eat our iron- 
rations for tea ; then, about eight o'clock, they called 
the regiment to fall in, as the Turks were going to 
attack us. We stood up as reinforcements at a place 
called Shrapnel Gulley — and well it deserved its name, 
as we soon learned, for there were a terrible lot of 
casualties there, especially amongst the fatigue parties 
which had to go to the beach for water. 

You will see that we were initiated straight away. 
We did not know the danger of it at the time, and 
never thought that we should be so soon put through 
it after landing. But it was astonishing to see how- 
well the chaps settled down to the business. We 
had been landed only a few hours, and yet we were 
standing to arms, waiting for the Turks to come on. 
We expected them with a rush, for we had been told 
that Enver Bey, the Minister of War, had ordered 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 69 

that the Anzacs were to be thrown into the sea. 
Well, we didn't mean to be thrown. 

We were standing on open ground. There were 
two very high hills, and we were in the gulley at the 
bottom. Some of our troops were dug in on the top 
of the hills, and the Turks were dug in in front of us, 
some of them being not more than fifty yards away. 

It was a pitch-dark night, and a nerve-racking job 
waiting for the promised onslaught. Time passed 
and it seemed as if the Turks would never come; 
but at three in the morning they let themselves loose. 

The word was passed along — " The enemy is ad- 
vancing in front ! " and we were all ordered to stand 
fast till two blasts of the whistle had been sounded. 

It was hard to make out anything in that inky 
blackness, even with the eyes of bushmen; but we 
knew that the Turks had crawled out of their trenches 
and that they were going to throw themselves upon 
us. Then two shrill blasts struck the still night, and 
instantly there was a fearful commotion, for the Turks 
hopped up from the ground and charged, yelling and 
firing, and making all sorts of deafening noises, 
amongst which we noticed a trumpeter doing his best 
to blow our own call of the " Officers' Mess." They 
seemed to blow anything that came along, so as to 
confuse us in the pitch darkness. And a startling 
business it was, too, to peer into the blackness and 
see the figures of the Turks by the light of the bursting 
shells and crackling rifles. 

Never while I live shall I forget that fight in the 
first night we were ashore in Gallipoli. We did our 
best to see what was going on by looking through 
the pot-holes in the sandbags of the trenches, though 
at night you could look over the tops of the parapets ; 



70 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

but it was little enough that we could make out in 
the darkness. 

We had our magazines loaded and our bayonets 
fixed. The infantry alongside were in " possies," 
as we called them, holes dug in the trenches to keep 
a man from being exposed. Two men were in each 
" possy," one firing and the other loading for him, 
so that a constant fire was kept up. One of our 
fellows, terribly excited, had crawled up on to the sand- 
bags, and there he stood, just seen in the darkness 
by the flashes of fire, for about ten minutes, when he 
was ordered down. 

At this time I was a non-combatant, one of the 
stretcher-bearers, and I was just standing, waiting 
for somebody to get hit; so I could see everything 
that was going on. The shells were flying round all 
the time, making a fearful noise, and an Indian 
battery above us was doing good work. In a 
" possy " high above us were the machine-guns, and 
we could see even in the darkness what havoc they 
were causing amongst the enemy. 

In the loud cries that arose I heard a Scotchman 
of our regiment shout, " Here comes a big Turk with 
a brick in his hand ! " 

We peered into the blackness and saw a big fine 
Turk crawling on the ground about five yards away, 
holding in his hand something that looked like a 
brick. The machine-guns got him just as he jumped 
up. The bullets fairly smothered him, and he dropped 
like a thousand of bricks. Later on I had a good 
look at him, and found that the thing he carried was 
not a brick but a bomb. He had no boots on, but his 
feet were wrapped in cloth, so that he made no sound. 
He had managed to get within ten paces of us. 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 71 

The din quietened down as daylight came, which 
was about five o'clock. We looked eagerly around 
us to see what had been done, and noticed the dead 
Turks everywhere, many of them in clusters of half 
a dozen, just as they had been mown down by our 
machine-guns. Later on we learned that the number 
of the Turkish dead was 2000, so that the ground 
was fairly strewn with bodies. 

We were ordered back to our trenches, where we 
had breakfast and a bit of rest; but at ten o'clock 
we were told to fall in again, as the Turks were 
making another charge. The enemy did come on, 
but rather half-heartedly, and they were repulsed 
without our aid. They had made a fine and brave 
dash in the night, as we saw. They never got into 
our trenches, but we were told that they had rushed 
in farther round, where the New Zealanders were; 
but they had been bayoneted straight away. 

In the afternoon the Turks put up a white flag 
and asked for an armistice, to bury the dead. 

A big old Turk walked towards us, and he was met 
by Captain R. J. A. Massie, a famous Australian 
amateur champion, an all-round athlete of splendid 
physique. The Turk was blindfolded and brought 
into our trenches and then taken to headquarters, 
and after he had been questioned an armistice was 
granted. 

The firing ceased, and the Turks came out with 
all their stretcher-bearers, and our stretcher-bearers 
and diggers went out, too, and the burials went on — 
and not before they were necessary, for the stenches 
were awful. 

This sad work was being done, when our artillery 
observers noticed that the Turks were bringing up 



72 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

guns and reinforcements from the gulley at the back 
of our chaps, and we were ordered to come in. 

That ended the armistice for the time, and the Turks 
at the back were fired on and their little game stopped. 
Next morning there was another armistice, for it was 
absolutely necessary to get on with the burials. 
The atmosphere was almost unendurable, and, even 
on landing, the stench from dead mules and so on 
was so horrible that it nearly made me bilious. 

On that second morning I was able to see that a 
lot of our chaps were lying between our parapet and 
the Turks' parapet. We made an exchange of bodies, 
and having got our men's identification discs, we 
buried them in the small trenches, so that the fight- 
ing-places became graves. 

All these things that I have told about happened 
within thirty hours of our landing — and the fortune 
of war had sent some of the Anzacs to their last 
resting-place and put others, wounded, on the list 
for home. Men were sent off, their fighting careers 
ended, after having been in the enemy's country for 
only a few hours. 

We were pretty philosophical over the business. I 
remember one of the men in my squadron saying, 
" If your name's on a bullet you're going to stop it." 
Soon afterwards a four-point- seven got him. 

The Turks used to fire like mad. It was astonish- 
ing to see how many bullets they fired, but even at 
that early stage our men, when off duty, were asleep 
and taking no notice of them. 

At this time we were opposite Lone Pine, attached 
to the 4th Australian Battalion as infantry. After 
the fighting we had exactly a month in the trenches, 
and then relieved some infantry who had had three 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 73 

weeks of solid fighting. We were relieved and went 
to a rest camp near Gaba Tepi. We had seven days 
there, with a good deal of excitement one way and 
another, and plenty of casualties, for we were being 
called out every day. 

It was rumoured that Achi Baba was going to fall, 
and we were ordered into the firing-line as supports 
for the 5th Light Horse. The 5th were going out 
in front to draw the Turks' fire and keep reinforce- 
ments from going down to Achi Baba. Some of the 
6th and 7th Light Horse were to stand by and act 
as reinforcements. My troop was in the firing- 
line. 

The 5th hopped out right on the beach, and ran 
for Gaba Tepi under cover of the ridges. The 7th 
got up on our left. We were in the middle. A 
squadron of the 7th ran along under cover of the 
ridge, in the same direction as the 5th. They went 
a good while without drawing the fire of the Turks, 
who did not seem to notice them ; but fire was opened 
at last. 

Still the advance continued, more cautiously now, 
our fellows crawling when they could, for shelter. 
The Turks got a few lucky shells in amongst the 5th, 
and the casualties began to come in. 

There were some odd incidents. 

Our sergeant was peering through a look-out with 
a pair of glasses, his right hand being round them. 
Another sergeant said, " Let's have a peep." 

Our sergeant pulled his head back and straight- 
ened himself, but still held the glasses with his hand 
in front of the hole. 

The other sergeant was just stepping up to take 
the glasses, when a bullet came through the hole and 



74 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

went clean through the hand that still held the glasses, 
putting our sergeant out of action. We took him 
to the dressing-station, and he was not long before 
he was back in the firing-line, which is more than 
would have happened if the sergeant had been still 
bending down and had got the bullet in his head. 
He was a nice chap — a station-manager from Queens- 
land. 

In about two hours volunteers were asked for to 
bring in wounded Colonials from the front. There 
were a good many casualties by this time, and plenty 
for the stretcher-bearers to do. 

We got to two men who, we saw at once, were 
very badly wounded. They were pretty well 
sheltered, and it was thought better to leave them 
where they were for the present, and not try to 
move them. One man had his foot blown off 
by shrapnel, and he was otherwise very badly 
wounded. A stretcher-bearer had bound him up 
roughly and put a tourniquet on to stop the bleeding ; 
and another chap had carried him on his back to 
shelter. Several of the stretcher-bearers were killed 
and wounded at this time, but I do not think that the 
firing on them was deliberate. 

The other man was a trumpeter. He was a little 
chap, and we called him " Scottie," because he had 
gone out to Australia from Scotland. He was 
wounded in the abdomen, and was in agony, but we 
managed to relieve his suffering with half a grain of 
morphia. The flies were swarming and were terribly 
troublesome. I tried to keep them off with a wet 
towel — I had to wet it in salt water — so that they 
should not annoy him. I noticed that his boots were 
torn, and I took them off. I then saw that his legs 




. 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 75 

had not been dressed — and he had been lying there 
for some time. I put iodine on the wounds. 

Scottie was rather cheery, and when the padre 
came up and said, " Well, how are you ? " he answered, 
" I'm feeling pretty good now." 

When the colonel went up to him, Scottie said, 
44 I'm going to die ! " 

" Oh no, you're not," said the colonel. " You'll 
get all right again. Don't let that worry you. You'll 
soon be playing Christmas Calls for us." 

To that Scottie made a reply which I shall never 
forget. " Yes," he said. " I shall die ! I can 
smell ut ! " That was his real expression, and I 
suppose he meant that he could smell death. 

Scottie wanted the colonel to take charge of some 
little trinkets and things : his pay-book, and a photo- 
graph of two children. " Give these to the wife," 
he said. Then he broke into " Annie Laurie," and 
sang a verse of it. He sang the song fairly well. It 
was a good attempt for a man in the straits that he 
was in. 

At six o'clock he died, and was buried the same 
night, after sundown, at the place where we were, 
and that was a big cutting called Chatham's Post, 
named after one of the officers. It was a deep cutting 
in the side of the hill. These two chaps were lying 
there on stretchers, and it was very hard for a bullet 
to hit them. Scottie was just taken to the back of 
the parade at the back of Chatham's Post, a place 
called Shrapnel Green. It was a green field when we 
first went, but it was soon trodden down and made 
bare by gun and rifle fire. And there Scottie was 
laid to rest. 

From the burial we went back to the dressing- 



76 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

station and carried the wounded trooper — Lane, 
they called him — down to the beach. The padre 
asked Lane if he would like a " wad," that is a pan- 
nikin, of tea, and Lane said he would. I helped him 
to sit up, and I held the " wad " for him. He drank 
the tea cheerfully, though he must have been in 
awful agony. They took him along the beach. He 
did not say much, but never complained. When he 
did speak it was to ask, " Who's that lying there? " 
or " How is he getting on? " He was the best I saw 
the whole time I was there. 

On the way to the beach there were wire entangle- 
ments, to stop the Turkish patrols. The stretcher- 
bearers fell into the entanglements and dropped Lane ; 
but he never thought about himself. What he said 
was, " Are you hurt? " I am glad to say that he is 
here in England, like me, and has pretty well got 
over it, though he has lost his foot. Seventeen men 
were hit by the shell that knocked Lane out. 

We settled down again to the righting game with 
the Turks, who kept us very lively, especially with a 
gun that we called " Beachy Bill." This gun played 
on the beach whenever there was a sign of our move- 
ments, and it became a common thing to say, " Beachy 
Bill's got somebody again." That Turkish gun 
caused more casualties than all the rest put together. 
The monitors used to go for it, and I believe they 
bombarded it out of existence more than once. A 
new gun was soon at work again, but to us it was 
always " Beachy Bill." When we first got to Gal- 
lipoli we did not know the tricks of the trade, but 
everybody soon got fly, and that helped us a lot in 
tackling " Beachy Bill " and lessening his bag. 

There's a lot more to say, but I will only tell you 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 77 

about one more thing, and that is the blowing up of 
some Turks. Our trenches and those of the Turks 
almost met in places, and bombs were thrown from 
one to the other. That was a lively exchange of 
greetings, but it didn't lead to much. Something 
more definite was wanted, and so our people began to 
dig a tunnel at a very narrow junction, so as to blow 
up the Turkish trenches, and make our own trench-line 
straight, instead of being, as it was, twisting and 
zigzag. 

It was a real Turk hunt, and just the sort of work 
that our chaps revelled in. 

This affair, like most of our scraps, was done in the 
darkness, which made it all the more thrilling. Well, 
we dug and sapped and tunnelled towards the Turks, 
and when everything had been got ready, powder 
was packed in sandbags and fuses were put to them. 
The deeper the sandbags the worse the explosion. 

All was ready at last. The powder-bags were 
packed, the fuses were lit, and then the 11th and 
12th Battalions began to finish the work which the 
artillery had begun. The guns had started at five 
o'clock, they went on booming till nine, then there 
was a fearful sound which was louder than the loudest 
thunder I ever heard, accompanied by an immense 
mass of red fire in the blackness of the night. I was 
two hundred yards away, but the very earth on which 
I stood shook and shivered with the upheaval. 

As soon as the crash came our chaps hopped up and 
rushed the shattered trenches. They found that a 
big crater had been made by the explosion, and that 
most of the Turks had been stiffened. Those who 
were left were either bayoneted or bombed. The 
Turks did not counter-attack that day. They had 



78 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

had enough of it. We had a good few casualties, 
but it was an effort that was worth while, because 
it showed that if we wanted a place we could take it, 
and at any time we liked. I saw all this very clearly, 
for I was going backward and forward all the time as 
a stretcher-bearer. 

The Turks gave us no chance and we gave them 
none ; but at the same time they did not do anything 
that I would call really dirty or out of the way. A 
lot of them were fine fellows physically. Some of the 
Turkish diggers we got as prisoners had no fighting 
gear on them at all. They were just peasants who 
had been brought up to do the work. 

At last I fell ill with dysentery and gastritis, and 
came home on a huge hospital ship, with four thou- 
sand more sick and wounded soldiers. We had a 
six days' run to Southampton, and had just under 
sixty deaths on board. They were buried at sea in 
batches, the biggest being eleven — and very solemn 
it all was. 

Now I have done; but I want to tell of just one 
more little thing that happened here in England, 
where I have been in hospital, and where people have 
been so good to us. 

It was Christmas-time, and we were having a 
Sunday evening service in hospital. We were asked 
what hymns we would like, and a chap spoke out and 
said, " Let's have 

' We plough the fields and scatter 
The good seed on the land.' " 

The parson was puzzled. He hardly thought we 
could, because it was Christmas-time and this was a 
harvest hymn. 



AN ANZAC'S ADVENTURES 79 

" And it's harvest-time now at home in Australia," 
the chap said. 

So we had the good old hymn, and it took us back 
to home twelve thousand miles away. 

I think the Anzacs did what they set out to do. 



CHAPTER VI 

'* FOR THE KENSINGTONS 

[" By your splendid attack and dogged endurance on May 9th, 
you and your fallen comrades won imperishable glory for the 
13th London Battalion. It was a feat of arms surpassed by 
no battalion in this great war." This was the fine tribute 
paid to the 13th (Kensington) Battalion of the London Regi- 
ment by General Sir Henry Rawlinson, commanding the 4th 
Army Corps, after the Kensingtons had taken part in the 
British advance in May between Bois Grenier and Festubert. 
The battalion had already greatly distinguished itself in the 
Neuve Chapelle operations and elsewhere. This story of 
some of the doings of the corps at the front is told by a member 
of the Kensingtons, who wishes to remain anonymous.] 

The main body of the Kensingtons had gone out in 
October, and I left England with a draft in January, 
the dead of winter. We marched up to billets in 
Laventi, three miles from the firing-line. The place 
was being heavily shelled by the Germans, and 
amongst other buildings the church was smashed up ; 
but the men were lucky, and I don't think that any 
soldiers were hit there. I shall always particularly 
remember that place, because it was there that I saw 
for the first time a man who had been killed by the 
enemy. 

I was going along a street near an old ruined house 
which was being used as a soldiers' club, when I heard 
the noise of an exploding shell. The crash was very 
near, and soldiers rushed out from the ruined house 
to see what had happened. They told me that the 

80 



'IMPERISHABLE GLORY' 81 

shell had burst farther down the street, and that a 
civilian had been killed. Without any loss of time 
they took a door down, and using this as a stretcher 
they carried the dead man away, and as I watched 
them I realised that we were fairly in it, and I am 
bound to say that I was very strangely moved and 
deeply impressed by this little tragedy. 

We realised even more fully what it all meant when 
for the first time at the front we put five rounds of 
ball ammunition in the magazines and marched off 
for our first spell in the trenches, between our billets 
and the firing-line. We started at dusk, so that we 
should reach the trenches just when it became dark. 

There was something very solemn in going away 
like that towards the enemy ; yet there was, of course, 
intense excitement and curiosity. It was not a very 
exhilarating start, because the country was in a 
very bad state, owing to the heavy January rains. 
There was plenty of water in the trenches when we 
reached them, and it was bitterly cold. We were 
only one night in them that time, but it was a useful 
breaking-in experience, and hardened us a bit for the 
much longer spells, during which the cold was so in- 
tense that the rifles were frozen as they lay on the 
parapets, if care had not been taken to keep them 
well oiled after firing. 

We got some fine experience and first-rate prepara- 
tion as a nerve-steadier in carrying out the duties of 
" listening patrol." When night came we went out 
of our trenches and made our way to the front of the 
parapet, working in pairs. This work was both 
dangerous and ticklish, for we had orders not to fire 
under any circumstances, as that would have brought 
the German machine-guns on us; but to use only 



82 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the bayonet in case we came across parties of the 
enemy. 

The object of the " listening patrols " was to find 
out, if we could, the German working parties putting 
up barbed wire entanglements and doing other things 
for their own protection. One of the pair of men 
would lie down on the ground and listen, and the 
other would be on the alert, ready to report instantly 
any suspicious noise that was noticed. If the 
Germans were putting up barbed wire, it meant that 
they were quite exposed and good execution could 
be done amongst them by our machine-guns ; on the 
other hand, if the enemy heard our " listening patrols " 
they would instantly open fire with machine-guns 
and rifles and anything that came handy. 

Patrol work was very trying, especially on the 
intensely cold nights, when it was a hard matter to 
keep awake, and the man who was lying on the ground 
was almost frozen stiff. 

This sort of work went on for several weeks — until 
about March, slushing about in the trenches, and 
often enough, when we went out of them at night we 
would fall, in the darkness, into trenches that were 
full of water. Sometimes men were in it up to the 
neck, and the only way to get your clothes dry was 
to let the heat of the body do it — a long business at 
times, when the body had very little heat to spare. 
There was no help for it, because the men who came 
to grief like that could not change at all. 

Early in March we were digging trenches on La 
Bassee Road. This work occupied us for several 
nights, and though we did not at the time fully 
understand its meaning, we knew afterwards that the 
trenches were meant for the massing of our men for 



'IMPERISHABLE GLORY ' 83 

the battle of Neuve Chapelle. These were reserve 
trenches, and in the open; the consequence being 
that they were exposed to the German fire, and the 
digging was very dangerous work. We used to get 
as many as a dozen casualties in a company while 
digging, and one spot became known as " Suicide 
Corner," because of the heavy losses there. Of 
course, the digging was always done at night; but 
digging means making a noise, and whenever the 
enemy heard a noise they went for the place it came 
from. 

It was at " Suicide Corner " that I made my first 
real acquaintance with the horrors of war. As usual 
we had gone out to dig. We had been taken to our 
allotted place by the Engineers, every other man 
carrying a spade, and our rear being brought up by 
four or five stretcher-bearers. It was obviously to 
our interest to dig as hard as we could, to get shelter, 
and we went at it with a will, being pretty well massed. 

There was a man quite close to me, digging for all 
he was worth. Suddenly he went down, and I felt 
sure that he must have been shot, because the 
Germans, doubtless hearing our digging, had opened 
rapid fire on us. I soon found that the poor chap 
had been shot through the chest, and I went to fetch 
up our stretcher-bearers. They came, and a doctor 
came, and the man was carried to the shelter of a 
neighbouring hedge, where the doctor and the 
stretcher-bearers did everything they could for him, 
by the light of an officer's electric pocket- torch ; but 
he had been mortally wounded in the chest, and he 
died at the hedge side, in the darkness which was lit 
only by the light of the torch and the flashes of 
machine-guns and rifles. The poor fellow was 



84 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

covered up and put on a stretcher and carried back 
to the billet. 

This was the first man I had seen killed in action, 
and it made a very deep impression on me, especially 
as it happened at night. That picture of the dying 
soldier under the hedge, with the doctor and the 
ambulance men striving by the light of the little 
torch to save him, will, I think, remain in my memory 
when many of the bigger happenings of the war have 
faded and are almost forgotten. It is an early and a 
very sorrowful impression of the days that came just 
before the beginning of the furious battle of Neuve 
Chapelle. 

No one who was in those Neuve Chapelle operations 
will ever forget the massing of the British forces for 
the fight. The whole countryside was alive with 
troops of every sort, and there was the incessant 
rumble of gun-carriages, ammunition-wagons and 
heavy motor-lorries, and the tramp of hosts of men 
on the march. There was a great deal of inevitable 
noise, but at the same time a sinister and impressive 
quietness. There was the feeling in the air that 
something very big was going to happen, and every- 
body felt on the " edge." 

The Kensingtons went on in the night until we got 
into some reserve trenches, which there had not been 
time to finish properly. They were simply scoopings 
in the ground, with the earth thrown up on each side, 
a rough-and-ready sort of arrangement, affording 
very little cover and with not enough room for us to 
lie down — indeed, so shallow were they that when 
the bombardment began in the morning we were 
actually lying one on top of the other. 

The bombardment which opened the battle of 



'IMPERISHABLE GLORY' 85 

Neuve Chapelle began fairly early, and it is no exag- 
geration to say that when the immense number of 
guns began crashing it was hell let loose. The very 
earth shook, and no part of the country where we 
were seemed to escape from the shattering effects of 
the shells of every sort which were bursting all around 
us, a great many of them in the air. Some shells 
fell into the reserve trenches, and many of our fellows 
were hit. 

The trenches in front of us were manned by two 
fine Line regiments, and these troops were ordered to 
advance towards the Germans and dig them out of 
their trenches. The Linesmen had a heavy task 
before them, but they began to carry it out most 
gallantly, and while they did so we came in for a very 
furious attack from the enemy's batteries, because, 
although they could not get at the advancing Regulars, 
we were well in the zone of their fire. We suffered 
severely during this bombardment, and were glad 
when the order came to rush to the trenches that the 
Linesmen had left and take their places. 

To get to the trenches we had to rush over some 
fields, and as we dashed along we were under a heavy 
fire, which caused us serious losses, and those of us 
who reached the comparative shelter of the trenches 
were thankful when we were able to drop into them 
and so escape from the open ground. The thing to 
do was simplicity itself, and that was to get across 
the open space from one lot of trenches to another. 
There was no question of doing anything except 
look after yourself and carry out your orders ; there 
was no chance of helping any one who fell — it was 
forward all the time, and those who went down had 
to be left where they fell. 



86 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Shells were bursting everywhere and the fragments 
were scattered all around the battlefield, and men 
were going down, killed or wounded, on every hand. 
It was through this real hail of fire that we reached 
the trenches which had been occupied by the two 
Line battalions, and then we saw a sight that I, at 
any rate, shall never forget — a spectacle, too, which 
proved how terrible the struggle was and how greatly 
the Regulars had suffered. 

I talk of trenches, but no such things were left — 
the German gunners had smashed them out of all 
resemblance to ordinary trenches — and owing to 
one of those inevitable happenings of warfare some of 
our own British shells also had helped to complete 
the work of destruction. 

The trenches had been blown in on all sides, and the 
barbed wire entanglements near them had been 
utterly destroyed, so that what we saw was a con- 
fused heap of ruins, or rather an area of shattered 
ground in which men had been killed and buried at 
the same time. The real horror of this part of the 
affair was to see the brave fellows who had done their 
best, and were now lying dead and shattered in the 
debris. 

I soon had a very bad experience in the trenches 
that we had taken over, so to speak. 

I and another Kensington had been allotted a 
firing position, and we were doing our best with our 
rifles when I suddenly became aware that my com- 
panion had come to grief. I looked round and saw 
that he was lying at the bottom of the trench — and 
I made the terrible discovery that his head had been 
blown completely off. I would not mention this 
circumstance except by way of trying to show what 



'IMPERISHABLE GLORY' 87 

the whole of the trench warfare meant. This incident 
occurred in the open trenches ; but a lot of the dug- 
outs were blown in with the men inside, which meant 
burial alive, and I know of one case in which seven 
men, so killed, were lying together, and that is only 
one instance of many of the same sort in this 
tremendous war. 

When we got into the trenches that had been 
occupied by the two Line regiments we were ordered 
to take up a firing position, and the first thing we 
did was to try and restore the parapet and to make 
the trench serviceable, in case the Linesmen were 
driven back. At this particular time everything 
gave way to the chief business in hand, which was 
to fight, and only the stretcher-bearers were allowed 
to do anything for the men who fell. Here, again, 
every other man carried a spade, and those who had 
them had to set to work at once to put the trenches 
to rights again, as far as it was possible to do so. 
This work was being done very vigorously when it 
had to be dropped suddenly, because the order came 
that we were to advance right up into the village of 
Neuve Chapelle; and so it happened that we were 
rushed up just behind the spot where the Regulars 
had dug themselves in. We rushed up into the 
village and lay in the open, behind some ruined 
buildings. 

The Germans had arranged a counter attack, and 
if this had come to anything we should have made a 
dash for the trenches, which were just in front of the 
village; but as it was we made for the village itself, 
or what was left of the place, for by this time there 
was nothing left but the ruins, and the whole region 
was an absolute shambles. 



88 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Before we made this rush the men of the Line 
regiments began to bring in German prisoners. 
These came in batches of fifteen or twenty, disarmed, 
of course, so that one or two British soldiers were 
enough for a batch. These prisoners looked as if 
they had had a terrible time, and, indeed, they said 
they had been through some dreadful experiences 
owing to our artillery, and that our guns had given 
them a shell for each yard of ground they held. 

The German attack not having materialised, we 
were able to retire to the trenches and make them 
habitable. Before this could be done we had to get 
the wounded out and bury the dead. As a rule, we 
had dug a grave for each man, but now there were so 
many of the killed that we had to put the bodies 
side by side in long trenches, which we made just 
behind the line. Quite a cemetery came into exist- 
ence there, and we did our best to make it nice and 
worthy to be the resting-place of those who had given 
their lives for their country. 

There is one feature of this great war which has 
been lost sight of to some extent, and that is the 
tremendous call which has been made on the physical 
endurance of the men, quite apart from the ceaseless 
and excessive strain on the nerves and mind. I will 
give one illustration on this point. 

On the night of March 10th, during the battle of 
Neuve Chapelle, the front line ran short of ammuni- 
tion and the Kensingtons were ordered to take up a 
supply. First of all we had to load up with our little 
lot, and, as it was impossible to carry the ammunition 
in the cases, each man got a score of canvas bandoliers 
across his shoulders, in addition to his own kit and 
rifle, and he had to stagger along with this tremendous 



' IMPERISHABLE GLORY' 89 

weight, the filled bandoliers alone representing about 
eighty pounds ; so that with the rifle and standing kit 
each man carried a burden of considerably more than 
a hundredweight. That was bad enough, but matters 
were made infinitely worse by the fact that we had to 
go along a newly-made road, or rather track. This 
road had been constructed by the Gurkhas, by the 
simple plan of putting bricks down almost anyhow — 
there were plenty of bricks handy from the ruined 
buildings all around us; so that the road we had to 
take was rather like the huge teeth of an enormous 
saw, for there was no steam roller to flatten down the 
surface. 

In the darkness, under constant fire, we staggered 
and stumbled along with our ammunition ; but even 
the biggest and strongest amongst us could not do 
more than cover about a hundred yards at a time. If 
a man did that he was proud and thankful, and having 
got a bit of rest as best he could — and that was by 
hunking up and resting on the rifle, for if a man had 
really got on to the ground he would have been hard 
put to it to rise again — we forged slowly ahead. 

We had been ordered to take the ammunition into 
a house that was battered, but was more whole than 
the rest — it was really only a skeleton of a building — 
and having reached the house we very gladly dumped 
our bandoliers down in the garden. To reach the 
garden was quite a simple matter — all we had to do 
was to dash through a big hole in the side of the house, 
made by artillery fire, and I give you my word that 
we lost no time in shedding our burden of bandoliers. 

It was a most exciting little performance from start 
to finish, yet it put a terrific strain on every man who 
took part in it — load yourself up with more than a 



90 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

hundredweight of stuff and see what it feels like; 
then you will partly realise what we had to go through 
— and the excitement was by no means ended when 
we reached the garden in the darkness, because just 
as we were getting rid of the bandoliers a shell 
crashed into the house next to us and smashed it to 
smithereens, a lot of our chaps being fairly smothered 
in the flying bricks and rubbish. 

That was a night, and one that I shall never forget. 

There seemed every prospect that we should be 
fairly mopped up, and when the order came for the 
N.C.O.'s to take back the men in parties we lost no 
time in returning, as best we could, to the trenches. 
Shelling was going on all the time, and just by way 
of giving a finish to the performance something like 
thirty star-shells burst together, making the dark 
night as light as day and giving the Germans a chance 
to plump more shells into us as we got back. This 
hurrying up with ammunition to the firing-line is 
only one of many such things that have been done as 
part of the day's work by British soldiers at the 
front. 

About two nights afterwards these two Line 
battalions of which I speak were relieved, and we took 
over their trenches. There were no dug-outs, or any 
such protections; the trenches were simply breast- 
works, and we had a very bad time when the wet 
weather set in, as it did. 

When we took the trenches over they were in an 
unfinished state, and we set to work at once to com- 
plete them. One night, or rather about two o'clock 
in the morning, I was working on the top of the back 
parapet, with my head and shoulders showing, and 
half asleep, for I was dead tired. Suddenly the 



'IMPERISHABLE GLORY' 91 

Germans sent up about fifty star-shells, which burst 
in the sky and made the darkness as light as day 
and showed us up as clearly as possible. Instantly 
the enemy opened rapid fire on our trenches and 
swept us with machine-guns, the bullets whistling 
over the parapets. 

I was roused as swiftly as if the reveille had sounded 
— perhaps faster, because there are no whizzing bullets 
when the bugles blow — and I well remember that I 
wriggled and rolled sideways. I knew that the 
darkness had become as light as daytime and that 
the German fire was peppering us, and that the best 
thing to do was to get out of it as rapidly as I could. 
So I fell flat, then lay still, then rolled into a trench 
as best I could. I remember — so soon do we get 
accustomed to war — that one of our chaps growled, 
" Why don't you go a bit farther, then you could go 
through an opening ! " Fancy a chap picking and 
choosing a landing-place when he was clearing out 
from shell-fire ! I knew that in rolling and falling 
like this there was a risk of landing on top of a fixed 
bayonet, as some of our fellows did, but I cheerfully 
took that chance in my eagerness to get under cover. 

After this we polished up our bayonet work and 
went through a lot of routine, at the end of which we 
were told that we were to take the offensive and that 
some Regulars were to do the support work — a 
proud position for Territorials. So we filed into a 
front trench and relieved men who were only seventy 
yards away from the Germans, so that we knew we 
should not have far to rush when the real business 
came to hand. 

I wish I could tell you of what happened on the 
glorious Ninth of May, when, according to all reports, 



92 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the Kensingtons did so well and won so much praise 
from General Rawlinson ; but I cannot go into detail, 
for I was hit at the start, and fell before the German 
lines were reached. I know that this particular 
fight began early in the morning, that it lasted all 
day, and that our chaps were practically surrounded. 
The order had come that we were to go for the 
Germans, and I was doing my bit in carrying it out. 

We were rushing forward when I was shot through 
the chest and was knocked completely out. When 
this happened I was in a trench, and our chaps were 
cheering loudly, as if no such things as Germans 
existed. 

The bullet that struck me had gone through my 
left lung, though I did not know this until later, and 
I had had a very narrow escape ; but I did not at the 
time fully realise how close a call I had had. 

After being shot I just managed to get back over 
the parapet, and I was bandaged up and kept going 
for the time being. 

I felt pretty well until the alarm came that the 
Germans were starting on the gas tack, and then I 
wanted to be on the move. Respirators were fixed, 
and every preparation was made to meet the devilish 
device. For my own part, being shot and helpless, 
I naturally wanted to be out of it, so I beseeched the 
stretcher-bearers to carry me away, so that I should 
have, at any rate, a sporting chance. 

44 Will you try and get me out ? " I said ; 44 because 
I know that gas will finish me." And being good chaps 
two of them came, put me on a stretcher, and carried 
me down a communication-trench and into safety, 
under a constant and heavy fire, which lasted all 
that famous day. 



'IMPERISHABLE GLORY' 93 

I have been yarning long enough, though I could 
say a good deal more. By way of finish. I will tell 
you of a little incident of sniping. 

Sniping was going on all the time. In many places 
it was very deadly, especially where the green uniform 
of the snipers harmonised with the cabbages, so that 
the snipers could not be seen. We got used to 
the cabbage-patches whizzing bullets, but we were 
puzzled by some especially dangerous firing which 
came upon us from the rear. For a considerable 
time we could not make this out ; then we discovered 
a haystack, and suspicion was aroused. We kept a 
strict watch, and made particular inquiry, and were 
rewarded at the end of it, by finding that what looked 
like an inoffensive haystack was a place of cunning 
hiding for a German marksman. This special rick 
concealed in its very heart a son of the Fatherland, 
who had been having a truly glorious time in potting 
us. He knew that he was certain to be discovered; 
but he went on sniping till we found him and put an 
end to his performance. He knew that his discovery 
was certain, and that discovery meant death ; but he 
kept his game up — and he died game. 

This was quite fair and square fighting, for sniping 
is legitimate. I cannot say as much for the German 
practice, which we fully proved, of using dum-dum 
bullets in their machine-guns. This they did by 
taking out the bullets as ordinarily used and reversing 
them. 



CHAPTER VII 

TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 

[It is almost incredible that a man can endure a war like this 
for the best part of a year without a break ; yet there are many 
British soldiers who have had that experience. At the outset 
these were mostly the old Regular troops who for efficiency and 
discipline were unrivalled in the world's armies. The story 
of one of these long-service Regulars — Private Frederick 
Woods, 1st Battalion Royal Irish Fusiliers — who served at 
the front for ten months and was then gassed and invalided 
home, is told here.] 

I had ten months at the front with my regiment 
before I was invalided home, and I think that during 
that long period I saw every form of fighting except 
one, and I have just been reading about it. That 
exception is the use by the Germans of liquid flame, 
which they sprayed on French troops some time ago 
and are now sending on to the British. It is a 
devilish and cowardly device, but quite in keeping 
with the German method of warfare. The Germans 
don't understand the meaning of honourable fighting, 
and there is no cruelty and barbarity that they have 
not practised during the year of war that has ended 
at the time we are talking together. 

It is natural enough that I should take my mind 
back to a year ago. How clearly I recollect that 
morning when I had just finished breakfast and 
opened my newspaper, and to my astonishment saw 
that war had been declared and that all Reservists 

94 




[To face p. 94. 

ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS IN TRENCHES IN GALLIPOLI. 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 95 

were to report at once, without waiting for the 
official notice from the depot. 

I was a Reservist of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, and 
had done seven years with the colours, so I at once 
went to my old home. I will confess that I was a 
bit downhearted, because my brother, also a Reservist, 
had come home, too, and he had the pain of saying 
good-bye to his wife, as well as to our parents. But 
we made the best of things, and it was the better for 
the two of us because we both belonged to the same 
battalion. 

How many of us who assembled at Euston Station 
for the journey to our depot in County Armagh, 
Ireland, are left, I wonder ? Not many, there cannot 
be, for the Royal Irish Fusiliers have suffered terribly 
in the war. The old soldiers assembled with brave 
hearts and were full of fun, and left Euston singing 
" Tipperary " in fine form. I well remember how 
much amused we were, when crossing in the boat, 
at a man who had come from Lancashire. He was 
wearing wooden clogs, and had a bottle of whisky 
with him; and he sang and danced and became 
particularly lively, and we thoroughly enjoyed his 
performance. At the depot we found our clothes 
and equipment waiting for us, and next day a big 
draft of us set out for England, my brother and 
myself amongst them. It was wonderful to see the 
draft and realise that here were fully trained soldiers, 
completely equipped, ready to take the field, and 
yet only a few hours ago many of the men were in 
civil life in various parts of the United Kingdom. 

I had the strange experience of dealing with German 
soldiers before we left England, for a score of us were 
given ammunition and driven to Folkestone Harbour 



96 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Station to meet a train of German Reservists who 
were trying to get away by a boat which was lying 
in the harbour, ready to take them to the Fatherland 
by way of Flushing. But the German Reservists 
didn't get off, and they had a big surprise when they 
saw us waiting for them. We searched them, of 
course, and found that several of the men were 
carrying arms. We took them to Christ's Hospital, 
the beautiful building in Surrey, and I suppose that 
they are still prisoners of war in England. These 
men were the usual type of Germans who were so 
often seen in London — waiters, and barbers, and so on, 
and I fancy that some of them were not sorry to be 
just too late to join the German Army. I cannot 
help thinking how different were these " reservists " 
to the long-service men who had rejoined the British 
colours. 

I am not going into any details of the earlier part 
of the war; but I was not long before I saw a few 
more German prisoners on the other side. We had 
marched two days without seeing the enemy, then 
our scouts returned with three prisoners. The scouts 
told us that they had banged into the Germans, who 
were retreating fast, and had captured these three 
fellows. I was deeply interested in the prisoners, 
because they were the first German soldiers I had 
seen. They struck me as being somewhat miserable 
specimens, but that was perhaps because they seemed 
very hungry. They looked better when we had given 
them some biscuit, which of course we did at once. 

Very soon after that I saw a farm which our 
artillery had hit, and which was in ruins and full of 
dead Germans. They had not had much of a chance 
against the British gunners, and I noticed that along 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 97 

the road leading to the farm ammunition was lying 
in heaps. It was a gruesome place to billet in; but 
in spite of the German dead we passed quite a com- 
fortable night at the farm. Next day we were on 
the move again, and reached a river where a bridge 
had been blown up. This delayed us till the follow- 
ing morning, as our transport could not cross. But 
we found a way out of that trouble by taking the 
transport along a railway, and a rough, hard job it 
was, too, for we needed four horses and men with 
ropes to do the hauling, as the wheels kept getting 
stuck between the sleepers. But in spite of all the 
difficulties we got the transport across, and reached a 
town which the Germans had passed through; and 
we did not want telling which way they had gone, 
as we could see champagne bottles and wine bottles 
along the road for miles — drink which the Germans 
had looted from the town. 

Drink and outrage and destruction marked the 
path of the German troops, wherever they had been, 
in those early unforgettable stages of the war, just 
as they did afterwards ; though I believe that now, 
when they know that they are outcasts from civilisa- 
tion, the Germans are disposed to mend their ways, 
if only to get better treatment when the final reckoning 
comes. 

There comes into my mind as I talk the picture 
of a dreadful sight I saw near Armentieres. We had 
reached a place and entered it, not knowing that the 
Germans were so near at hand, though we knew 
that we had them on the drive and that they were 
going away from us as hard as they could travel. 
Suddenly we came to a nunnery, where the nuns 
showed us the dead body of a little French boy, a 



98 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

mere child about five years old. A glance was 
enough to show that he had been bayoneted in the 
stomach, and it was clear that the cowardly murder 
had been done quite recently. One of our officers 
made inquiries of some nuns, and he was told that 
a drunken German soldier had killed the child. Can 
you wonder that when our eyes saw such dreadful 
evidence of German devilry and German cowardice, 
the Royal Irish Fusiliers, at any rate, made up their 
minds that whenever the chance arose the enemy 
should be severely punished? Nothing has been 
done by British soldiers in this war that has not been 
fair and square fighting, but I am glad to think that 
many a German coward and murderer has paid the 
penalty of some foul crime at the point of a British 
bayonet. 

Even in the way of ordinary warfare many innocent 
women and children have been killed, quite apart 
from the large numbers who have been wantonly 
murdered by German brutes. In one village we 
passed through one of our men found a woman's 
head of hair, which had been cut off, and the body 
itself was found by civilians. The woman had been 
maltreated and murdered by the Germans, and on 
every hand there were signs of the enemy's ferocity 
and inhumanity. Buildings were in ruins and homes 
were wrecked, doors having been battered down so 
that the savage soldiery could wreak their maddened 
will on fellow-creatures and their belongings. 

On every hand there was evidence of outrage. I 
went to a farm in this village to try and buy some 
milk and eggs. On entering a room which had a big 
fireplace, I saw in the corner of the fireplace an old 
man who seemed to be an idiot. A woman, whom I 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 99 

took to be his wife, and could speak broken English, 
told me that the Uhlans had taken him away, with 
his hands tied behind him. 

" Why did they take him ? What had he done ? " 
I asked her. 

She answered that the man had done nothing, 
but that the Germans had accused him of firing a 
shot. He had not done anything of the sort, for 
the shot had been fired by a French patrol; but in 
spite of his declarations, protests and appeals, the 
Germans beat the poor old fellow on the head with 
their lances and did their best to force him into a 
confession that he had fired. But he would do 
nothing of the sort, and at last they let him go — 
they would not have done that if they had not 
known that he was perfectly innocent. He managed 
to get back to his home, covered with blood and 
almost senseless, and the first thing that was noticed 
about him was that he had lost his memory. He 
very soon became the sorry spectacle I saw in the 
corner of the fireplace, an innocent man who had 
had the life nearly beaten out of him and had been 
maltreated into idiocy. It took me some time to 
understand the real point of the Germans' brutality — 
that they had let the poor old fellow loose and told 
him to run, and had battered him on the head and 
prodded him with their lances because he did not 
run fast enough. These are the soldiers who boast 
that what they have done in Belgium and elsewhere 
is nothing to what they would do in England if they 
got here. And for once I believe their boast. 

I recall the sad case of another old lady I saw. 
She was crying bitterly, and when she was questioned 
explained that the Germans had taken her son away 



100 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

— and he was never seen again. Like so many more 
of the inhabitants, he had fallen a victim to German 
" frightfulness." 

If you turn from these sad cases — and I have 
mentioned only one or two that come into my mind — 
and try to tell of what was done to ordinary people 
because they happened to be in the war zone, words 
almost fail you; but I recollect that at one time we 
had been relieved by French Alpine troops and had 
entrained for St. Omer, where Lord Roberts died, 
while the guns were solemnly booming in battle. 

We reached St. Omer and were resting on the 
square, when a German aeroplane came over and 
dropped two bombs, killing a woman and a child, 
but no soldiers. As soon as it was seen that this 
was happening, one of our own aeroplanes was sent 
up after the German. Up he went, in glorious style, 
and brought the baby-killer down; and when we 
saw it we cheered for all we were worth. The German 
dropped between the two firing-lines and was shot. 
We tried to make him a prisoner, but every time we 
made a rush to get him the Germans fired on us, not 
caring in the least about the fate of their own airman. 
The machine itself was shelled by us and burnt. 

When we reached the Aisne we found that a bridge 
by which we were to cross was blown up; but our 
engineers soon repaired the bridge, which had not 
been destroyed properly, so that it was strong enough 
to carry us. Having crossed the river, three regiments 
went to the tops of the hills and entrenched — the 
Warwicks, the Dublin Fusiliers, and the Seaforths, 
our own regiment being left in reserve at the back of 
a village. 

The French troops were on our left, in front of 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 101 

Soissons, and we used to see their artillery galloping 
across the plain with ammunition for the guns. 
The French use mules and not horses for their 
batteries, and once we saw some artillery galloping 
in fine style under German fire. When the guns 
were passing near us four shells landed amongst the 
limbers, but no one was hurt, and on seeing this we 
gave the Frenchmen a tremendous cheer, for luck, 
and they replied with cheers and wild waving of 
whips as they galloped away and nearer into the 
fire zone. I remember that day well, because on 
the night of it we had to go and bury thirty-five of 
our artillery horses that had been killed. 

Next day was our turn for shell fire from the 
Germans. The shells landed right into us, but we 
were lucky — only one man was killed though several 
were wounded. We advanced up the hill, out of the 
way of the fire ; but as we moved the enemy gave us 
shrapnel, and the shelling became so heavy that 
half-way up the hill we dug ourselves in. 

W T hile we were going up the hill, in short rushes, 
just like an ordinary field day, and without any 
confusion, an artillery corporal, whose name I do 
not know, showed splendid courage and uncommon 
strength in carrying several of our men to a hospital 
which the Germans were shelling. For his bravery 
he received the French Medaille Militaire. 

Our transport had a very rough time, for out of 
fifty horses no fewer than forty-two were killed or 
had to be shot. Twenty men were picked out, 
myself amongst them, and sent back some distance 
for new horses, and I am glad to say that we returned 
safely with the animals. 

I was then put on guard over a bridge which was 



102 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

a special favourite with spies. They were always 
trying to get through, but in most cases they failed, 
and being caught and found out, there was no waste 
of time in shooting them, after trial by court martial. 
After being relieved at this place by French Alpine 
troops we entrained for St. Omer, the place I have 
mentioned, and from St. Omer we were rushed in 
French motor lorries for about sixteen miles, to a 
village where we rested for the night. Next morning 
we were told that the Germans were on a hill six 
miles away. 

I shall never forget that day, because it rained in 
torrents, and it was a sodden regiment that trudged 
through the mud and mire and swished across 
drenched fields. It was not exhilarating, but we 
were soon warmed up by the German fire. We 
were ordered to lie down, and down we lay in a 
field of swedes, so we fairly flopped into beds of mud 
and water, just about completing our discomfort. 

The rain was pattering down like tiny bullets, but 
we also got a shower of the real things, and you could 
hear the bullets " zip " into the leaves of the swedes. 
It was intensely trying and very miserable to be in 
such an exposed place, and we were glad when the 
order came to fix bayonets, ready for a charge. We 
fixed bayonets, but had to wait some time before 
the order to charge came ; then we heard the word 
we wanted, and up we rose and off we went. The 
firing became hotter than ever, and several of our 
men were killed and wounded before the top of the 
hill was reached. 

There was not much commotion as we advanced, 
but somewhere a Seaforth Highlander was playing 
bagpipes, and the skirl helped the boys along. 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 103 

We expected some stiff work when we reached the 
top of the hill ; but when we got there we were aston- 
ished to find that the Germans had gone, taking their 
wounded with them. We were after the enemy so 
quckly, however, that they had to leave their 
wounded, who fell into our hands, and of course 
got exactly the same treatment as if they had been 
British soldiers. A hundred and three of the poor 
beggars had been left in a convent for the nuns to 
look after, so you may be sure that they had been 
well cared for before they became our prisoners. 

The Germans at this stage were retiring rapidly, 
and we kept them on the run. We soon came to a 
little village, where we found that the Germans had 
put sandbags in the church tower and had planted 
a machine-gun in the tower. A French flag which 
was flying on the tower the day before had been 
dragged down by the Germans and torn to pieces. 
We looked upon the flag with sadness, for here again 
we had evidence of German brutalities — in their 
retirement the soldiers had maltreated the women, 
and they had battered down doors and smashed 
windows in their savage determination to enter 
houses. They accused the villagers of firing on 
them — though the villagers had nothing but a few 
old useless firearms, which we saw. In spite of this 
they declared that a man had fired on them, and they 
shot him. The body was taken away by a priest. 
These things, I can assure you, roused us up properly, 
and we put plenty of heart into our continued pursuit 
of the Germans ; but they were flying so fast that they 
were very hard to catch. 

We came up with them in the big town of Armen- 
tieres, and were so close to them that as we entered 



104 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the town our scouts came back and told us that the 
enemy were just leaving it at the other end. As we 
entered the town we were cheered enthusiastically 
by the French, who seemed to look upon us as 
deliverers, and so loaded us up with gifts of chocolate 
bread, matches and so on that we had to throw half 
the things away. 

Going into Armentieres on the very heels of the 
Germans was an exciting and dangerous performance, 
and as we advanced along the streets we went on 
each side, not knowing on which side shots would 
come from windows, but ready for anything that 
happened, as the men on one side had their rifles 
handy for any German that appeared on the other. 
This was a better plan than being on the look-out 
for trouble from the windows just above your head. 
Luckily not many shots were fired upon us at this 
stage ; but we soon came to a farm where one of the 
most desperate little fights that I can call to mind 
took place. 

We were wary in entering the farm, for we saw at 
once the sort of thing we had to tackle. There were 
four Germans concealed in a cellar the window of 
which was on a level with the ground, so they had 
full control of the yard and the entrance-gate. 

Some of our boys, with Captain Carbury, went in 
and tried to persuade the Germans to surrender, but 
their answer to the coaxing was a volley which killed 
the officer and wounded the men. The captain was 
terribly mutilated, for he had been struck full on 
the body, not by an ordinary honest bullet, but an 
explosive bullet, and the men had been badly hurt. 
As they lay on the ground they cried for help, and 
all the time the Germans were firing on them and 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 105 

succeeded in hitting them on the legs and shoulders. 
Two of our men, brave fellows, volunteered to try 
and save their wounded comrades, and they dashed 
into the yard, only to be shot and killed as soon as 
they entered. One of these fine chaps was Lance- 
Corporal Shield, but I do not know the name of the 
other. 

It was useless to waste further life in the attempt 
to get the Germans out of their strong little position, 
from which they could fire without making themselves 
targets, so our officer sent for some engineers to 
undermine the farm and blow it up. The Germans 
were warned what was going to be done, and were 
called upon to surrender. This they refused to do. 

During that night the engineers were working like 
moles, and I didn't envy the feelings of the Germans 
who were trapped in the cellar, nor was there any 
pity for them next morning when the engineers 
finished their work. 

There was a crash and a flame and a shaking of 
the ground — and when, later, things having settled, 
we went to see what had happened we found one 
badly damaged German hanging over an iron girder 
on to which he had fallen after being blown up. 
We made a prisoner of him. His three companions 
had been killed, and we saw that they had been 
blown to pieces. 

The Germans by this time had received big rein- 
forcements, and they entrenched themselves strongly. 
We entrenched as well, and a warm job it was, as 
bullets used to whistle past us constantly. 

We were in these trenches thirty-seven days before 
we were relieved, and long, hard days and trying 
nights they were, putting an uncommonly severe 



106 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

strain on everybody. It was almost certain death 
for a man to show himself, yet men had to show 
themselves, because water had to be fetched and 
rations had to be brought up to the trenches and 
taken in. Whenever it was possible to do so advan- 
tage was taken of the darkness ; but we could not 
always wait for night, and during the daytime some 
splendid acts of bravery were seen. 

I will tell of one particular instance, because the 
man will be always remembered with pride by the 
Royal Irish Fusiliers — his valour won for him the 
Victoria Cross. This was Private Robert Morrow, 
an Irishman, who literally did not know the meaning 
of fear. One day we badly wanted some water, and 
this was to be had only from a farm which was some 
distance away. To reach the farm it was necessary 
to leave the trenches and cross open ground, exposed 
to the German fire, which was very deadly because 
we were so near the enemy's trenches. These were 
only about 600 yards away, and not more than 
300 yards away were some snipers, in a farm in front 
of the trenches. 

Morrow volunteered to fetch some water, and 
taking an empty two-gallon stone rum- jar he started 
on his perilous journey. As soon as he was seen 
after leaving the trench the Germans did their very 
best to pot him; but they missed every time, and 
Morrow reached the farm, filled his jar and began 
his trip back. And a hard business it was, for a jar 
like that will hold about fifty pounds' weight of 
water, then there is the jar and the awkwardness of 
carrying it when the carrier has to duck and dodge 
over every yard of the ground. But Morrow was a 
splendid hand at the game, and he actually managed 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 107 

to reach the trench in safety and was on the point of 
dropping into it with his precious water, and we 
were just ready to give him a wild Irish cheer. But 
at this very moment crash came a German bullet, 
and the rum- jar was smashed to pieces and the water 
rained on the ground and was lost. 

Morrow was the sort of chap who can't be beaten. 
Instantly he volunteered to go back to the farm with 
water-bottles. What can you do with such a man 
but let him have his way? We handed over the 
water-bottles, quite a festoon of them, and having 
slung them round him Morrow left the trench for 
the second time and began to make his way towards 
the farm. 

As soon as he left the shelter of the trench he drew 
the German fire on him, and he was under it all the 
way to the farm, where he filled the bottles, and all 
the way back. This time he reached the trench 
safely and dropped into it, bringing the water with 
him and escaping every German bullet that was 
meant to kill him. He was a plucky kid and we 
were proud of him. And the regiment will be proud 
of him for all time — I say will be, for like quite a 
number of the heroes who have won the Cross Morrow 
has been killed. 

Now that I am talking of him I recall the fact that 
only the day before he was killed he went to a well 
for water, and had a remarkably narrow escape from 
an odd sort of death — not a soldier's end at all. The 
Germans had blown the farm to pieces, but there was 
a lonely chimney-stack standing. When Morrow 
went to the ruined farm a high wind was blowing, 
and just as he was passing the chimney a strong gust 
brought it down in a heap at his very feet. He 



108 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

escaped by just a few inches from being killed and 
buried in the heap of masonry. 

It was on April 12th that Morrow actually won his 
Cross. At that time we were near Messines, and the 
trench warfare was being carried on with great energy 
on both sides. Shell fire from the Germans was 
shattering and wrecking some of our own trenches, 
so much so that British troops were being buried 
alive in some places. 

Several soldiers had been knocked out by shell 
fire and buried in the fallen earth. You can easily 
imagine what it means — men are in a trench, which 
is really a sort of vast open grave, and shell fire 
shatters the earth which is around and simply buries 
the men. So it happened on the 12th of April, 
and Morrow saw and knew it. Just as he had 
acted when he went and filled the rum- jar and our 
water-bottles with water, so he acted now — he gave 
no thought to himself. Out he went, not once, but 
many times, into a bullet-swept zone, till he reached 
the trenches which had been knocked out of shape 
by German shells, and in the rubbish of which his 
comrades were lying buried and helpless. He dug 
them out and pulled them out, and one by one he 
brought the senseless fellows into safety. That was 
the deed for which Morrow got the Victoria Cross; 
but in reality he had won the honour time after time. 
He was killed at " Plug Street," as we called the 
place. A piece of shell struck him on the head and 
he died immediately. 

The most extraordinary things happened to some 
of our fellows, and there were escapes from death or 
capture so strange that you could not credit them 
unless you saw them. I will mention one particular 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 109 

incident that comes into my mind. I saw one of our 
motor ambulances going along a road. There was 
nothing unusual in that, of course, because we have 
many motor ambulances and there are many roads, 
but in this case the road led straight into some 
German trenches. Before it was possible to do 
anything or raise an alarm the driver had blundered 
into the very midst of the enemy, and there he was, 
with his ambulance, just about as much amazed to 
see the Germans as they were to set eyes on him. 
They ought, of course, to have bagged both the driver 
and his vehicle; but he sprang down, restarted his 
engine and began to run away. The Germans pulled 
themselves together, and every man who could bring 
a rifle to bear fired on the retreating ambulance ; but 
luckily the driver had a fair lot of protection, and 
though hundreds of bullets struck the bonnet of the 
car not one of them touched him, and he got safely 
away and went on his journey. It was a remarkable 
escape, and all who saw it were glad that the plucky 
chap got so well out of the trouble which had followed 
his mistake. 

One night I was on sentry in the trenches when 
the sentry next to me gave the alarm. He had no 
sooner done that than he saw something crawling 
over the trenches. He did not waste a second — he 
lunged out with his bayonet, and then found that he 
had driven it into a German's shoulder. The German 
was made a prisoner, then it was discovered that he 
had lost his way in the dark and had got into our 
trench. When we searched him we found that he 
had a revolver and a long knife ; but he was miserably 
clad, his feet being wrapped up in newspapers, as he 
had no socks. He said he was glad to be captured. 



110 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Our chaps sometimes make the same mistake — a 
very easy one, as the German trenches were so close 
to our own. Two of our men went, one dark night, 
to get some hot tea in dixies. On their return they 
got into a communication trench and lost their way ; 
but at last, thinking they were home again, they 
shouted down a trench, " Hi, Bill, take the tea ! " 

Instantly bullets were flying around them, and 
realising that they were not back home at all, but 
had reached an enemy trench, they dropped the 
hot tea on the Germans, then ran for it and got 
safely off. 

I had been a long time at the front before I was 
detailed to go back with the transport and bring up 
the officers' rations every night. We used to gallop 
as hard as we could till we came to a bridge, which 
the Germans could see and did their best to smash 
with shells. There was a sharp turning which a 
priest had called the " Devil's Corner," saying it was 
worse than hell because of the continual shelling. 
We were forced to take this road, because it was the 
only way to reach the trenches. 

At night the Germans threw a searchlight on the 
" Devil's Corner," and as soon as ever they saw us 
appear they shelled us, sometimes as many as four 
shells coming together ; but we dashed on so furiously 
that they could not get us, nor did they catch us 
when we ran the gauntlet coming back, though they 
used to get an average of a wagon a night. In 
addition to this deadly corner we had three burnt 
villages to tackle; but we were always lucky, and 
our men did not come to grief. 

We used to go right up to the trenches, only about 
twenty-five yards from them, with the horses and 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 111 

wagons, and there was one specially dangerous spot 
which had to be passed. This was where there was 
a gap in a hedge, which the Germans knew of quite 
well and could see. They knew that at night our 
troops went to the gap to get water, and so in the 
daytime they trained machine-guns on the spot, and 
when darkness came they blazed away in the hope 
of wiping some of our men out. I have known these 
guns whirr for five minutes without a break, sending 
out a fire so horrible that nothing could live under 
it. We lost several men at this gap, and were forced 
to make an opening in the hedge somewhere else. 

We got into reserve trenches, and here it was that 
a " whistling Willy," which is our nickname for a 
small German shell, went clean through a Seaforth 
and then killed one of our own men in the trenches. 
The shell passed through the Highlander intact, and 
did not explode until it reached the trenches, a 
circumstance which shows the amazing performances 
of projectiles in this war. You never know what 
they will do. At another time one of our chaps, 
named Steel, was having his hair cut, when a shell 
exploded near him and a piece of it, six inches long, 
like a needle, struck him through the heart and killed 
him on the spot. 

The winter was a very rough time for us, as we 
could not keep the water out of the trenches, and 
we often had to sleep standing up, during a four days' 
spell in the trenches. Often enough, at the end of 
one of these hard spells, we were intensely dis- 
appointed because we could not be relieved, owing 
to troops being moved elsewhere, and we were forced 
to stick it for an extra four days; but we did not 
forget to make up for it when we were out, although 



112 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

we had to march a few miles to our billets to rest, 
and even then we were not free from shell fire. 

By the time I had been at the front seven months 
I think I had seen almost every phase of this tre- 
mendous war; but I had yet a lot to learn of what 
the war means, and I began to learn afresh when we 
got to Ypres and later on had a dose of poison-gas. 

None of the sights I had seen were to be compared 
with what we witnessed in the famous and beautiful 
old city, which the enemy had reduced to ruins. 
They had used shells of every sort, and I saw many 
evidences of the havoc and death that had been 
brought about on innocent people. 

There was one house, on the left-hand side of the 
Museum, the home of a poor-class person, which was 
in ruins. I noticed this specially, as many of us did, 
because from the ruins there peeped some tiny feet — 
one of the most pitiful sights I ever saw. We made 
inquiry and found that a gas-shell had come, shattered 
the house, and killed and buried in the wreckage 
the father and mother and three children — a whole 
family of five, and it was the little feet of the smallest 
child that we saw amongst the debris. There was 
nothing for us to do but march on, and become more 
grimly determined than ever to fight and smash the 
enemy who had done these things. In cases like 
these we cannot stop to do anything; but there is 
the comfort of knowing that our fatigue parties will 
come up and give decent burial, and that the service 
will be conducted by a priest of the same faith as 
the slaughtered victims. 

It was on April 26th that the gassing by the 
Germans began, and we had a repetition of the 
diabolical business on the 27th and 28th. We were 



TEN MONTHS IN THE FIGHTING-LINE 113 

quite taken aback by this development in the war- 
fare, and as we were not prepared for it, not having 
even respirators, we suffered terribly. The men who 
got a full dose of the poison died an awful death, 
turning black in the face and foaming at the mouth, 
the buttons on our tunics turning rank green; while 
those who were only half-gassed reeled about like 
drunken men. I was lucky enough to be amongst 
the only partially gassed, but what with that and 
my ten months at the front I was pretty well worn 
out and was invalided home. 

I have said that I have seen every form of fighting 
except one — the liquid fire. I have certainly been 
under every sort of fire but that, and I don't think I 
am saying anything unsoldierly in admitting that the 
fire I love best is the fire we left behind in dear old 
England. 



CHAPTER VIII 

A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 

[" Next I come to the Royal Artillery. By their constant 
vigilance, by their quick grasp of the key to every emergency, 
by their thundering good shooting, by hundreds of deeds of 
daring, they have earned the unstinted admiration of all their 
comrade services." That is the tribute which General Sir 
Ian Hamilton paid to the gunners in his despatch describing 
the operations in the Gallipoli Peninsula — a document which 
is the story of a noble failure. Little has been told of the 
doings of the artillery, but we can realise what they did from 
this narrative of Gunner John Evans, 92nd Battery, Royal 
Field Artillery, who was included in the vast number of soldiers 
who were invalided home through sickness.] 

I was in India with my battery when the war broke 
out. I had been in the country for seven years, and 
much as I liked it — I thoroughly enjoyed my soldiering 
there — I wanted to be off to the front. But I was 
kept in India for six months, training men to fight 
the Germans, and so doing my bit in that way. 
Then I came to England, where my battery had a 
splendid time because the people were so kind; and 
after that very pleasant change I was off to the 
Dardanelles, and went right into a fair hell of righting. 
You can imagine a lot as a soldier, but no flight of 
fancy would ever have made you picture in your mind 
the things that actually happened. It is all over 
now, and some of us in hospital have time to think 
of the brave fellows who are resting in the Peninsula. 
They could not do what they were set to do, because 

114 




[To face p. 114. 



W " BEACH, SHOWING CAPE HELLAF. 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 115 

that was beyond the power of ordinary man; but 
they did more, I think, than any other troops in the 
world could have done. To any man who knows 
what the country and climate are like, and who saw 
the difficulties and endured the awful discomforts, 
it seems that almost miracles were performed; and 
of all the wonderful things none was more wonderful 
than the withdrawal from Gallipoli. 

We went straight into the business. There was 
no beating about the bush over the job. We got 
there, to the famous Lancashire Landing at W 
Beach, and my battery was the first to land on 
Turkish soil. Looking back on the campaign makes 
you wonder that we ever got either in or out of 
Gallipoli. 

When our transport got near enough for us to begin 
our landing operations we were treated to a fine view 
of the desperate fighting that was going on, to say 
nothing of being under fire ourselves from the Turkish 
guns, a proper preparation for the regular hell of fire 
that we were under when we actually landed ourselves. 

The Turks had opened fire on our transport from 
the Asiatic side as well as the European side, and 
what was happening to our own ship was happening 
to a whole fleet of transports and all sorts of other 
ships. There were warships bombarding the enemy's 
position, and the din altogether was enough to 
stagger even a long-service gunner who thought he 
knew what noise meant. 

This happened about half past ten in the morning. 
At that time the Lancashire Fusiliers were making 
their magnificent attempt to land, and I shall never 
forget their pluck and the way they stuck to their 
deadly job. They were being conveyed ashore in 



116 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

lighters, and the Turks — we could distinctly see them 
over the edge of the cliff, not a hundred yards from 
the foreshore — were pouring in a terrible fire at close 
range. Shells, too, were dropping from the batteries 
at Achi Baba, miles in the rear, with wonderful 
precision. 

The Fusiliers' lighters could not get close to the 
beach owing to the barbed wire entanglements which 
had been fixed in the water, so the men were ordered to 
get out and wade ashore. This they began to do — 
and it was one of the most awful jobs that a landing 
party ever undertook. 

I could see them quite well from our transport. 
Without a moment's hesitation the Lancashires 
clambered over the sides of the lighters and into the 
water they went, struggling to get ashore. It is hard 
enough to force your way through water at any time ; 
put to that difficulty a heavy kit and rifle and ammuni- 
tion, throw diabolical barbed wire in, and you will 
understand to some extent what it all meant. 

As these brave fellows threw themselves overboard 
dozens of them were shot ; a lot more were caught by 
the barbed wire, and as they were held helplessly, 
with flesh and clothing torn in their frantic efforts to 
get free, they were killed or wounded by the Turkish 
fire. 

It seemed impossible for any of the Fusiliers to 
survive and get ashore, yet many forced their way 
through everything and landed on the beach, where 
they at once formed up roughly, and then without 
the slightest hesitation they charged up the face of 
the cliff, which looked to me almost as hard to scale 
as the side of a house. 

As they scrambled up the cliff they were met by a 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 117 

more murderous fire than ever from rifles and machine- 
guns, and numbers were killed or wounded. It seemed 
to me that for every man who reached the top at 
least four were killed or maimed. I could see the 
bodies rolling down the cliff-side on to the beach. 

It was only a little band of Lancashire Fusiliers 
that managed to scramble and rush to the top of 
that terrific cliff — a few hundreds or so. They must 
have been exhausted; but their blood was fairly up, 
and with fixed bayonets they charged with such fury 
and success that the Turks were fairly taken aback, 
and I could see them giving way before our boys' 
cold steel. 

Some of the Turks were throwing up their arms, 
and I could hear their shrill appeals for mercy; but 
the Fusiliers hadn't too much time to listen after the 
awful experience they had just gone through. 

After they had been driven off the Turks made a 
counter-attack, and the Fusiliers, being a mere 
handful, were forced back to the very edge of the cliff 
and seemed in peril of going down it ; but even then 
they re-formed and again rushed on the Turks with 
the bayonet and scattered them. Back again the 
Lancashires were driven, only to recover in the most 
amazing way and charge with the bayonet for the 
third time. And this seemed to settle the Turks, who 
cleared off. 

While this thrilling fighting was going on, a sight 
that can never be forgotten by those who saw it, our 
brigade was getting ready to disembark. The 
infantry had had a hard enough business to get 
ashore; but ours was naturally a lot worse, for we 
had to tackle our guns and horses ? as well as look after 
ourselves. 



118 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

There were lighters alongside the transport, and 
into each of these we got two guns and eight horses, 
not easy work at any time, but hard now, with such a 
rush on and shells dropping all around us. Some of 
the explosions caused havoc amongst the horses, and 
several shells dropped near our lighter; but I am 
thankful to say that they were not near enough to do 
us much damage. 

We were towed as near to the shore as we could get, 
and then we began the uncommonly hard and long 
job of getting the guns and horses ashore. The 
lighters were bobbing up and down and " ranging," 
owing to the run of the sea, and this unsteadiness 
made it very difficult to get the guns and horses over- 
board ; but every officer and man worked with a will, 
and we did it. We got them out of the lighter and 
on to a strange kind of roadway that had been made 
in the water by putting sandbags tightly down. 
These sandbags " gave " a fair lot, of course, but we 
could not have done anything without them, for the 
wheels would have sunk too deeply in the wet soft 
sand. 

When a gun was ready, from ten to sixteen horses 
were harnessed to it, and it took these and forty men 
on the drag-ropes to get one gun over the sandbag 
road on to the beach. We did our best, we strained 
every nerve, we were experts at the work, yet it was 
evening before the battery was ready for action. 
By that time we had got the guns on the level at the 
top of the cliff, about forty yards from the edge, 
after tremendous efforts by horses and men. I never 
saw such man-handling, even in India. 

We had luck in the weather, for a heavy storm 
came on and the rain fell in blinding sheets. This, 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 119 

with the darkness, when it came, enabled us to take 
up our position without the Turks knowing of the 
fact. 

Of course, while all this work of ours was going on 
the infantry were screening us in front. A constant 
and confused sort of righting was taking place, and 
our men were mixed up with the enemy in furious 
hand-to-hand scraps. It was a regular bedlam, and 
so that nothing should be left in the way of trouble 
we were soaked to the skin. But we were so absorbed 
in the righting, and so keen to get to work ourselves, 
that we did not give a thought to the drenching. We 
longed to get into action, but were kept back by the 
mixing up of our own men with the Turks, which 
made it impossible for us to open fire, because we 
should have killed as many of our own men as Turks. 

We stood by till we knew that our infantry had 
driven the Turks well back, and then it was that the 
enemy got one of the biggest shocks of the day, for 
we simply let go at him with shrapnel at point-blank 
range. So well had we been handled by our officers 
that the first hint the Turks had of our presence was 
when we opened fire, and then the muzzles of our guns 
were almost in amongst them. 

During the first few minutes of that tremendous 
excitement we did not bother much about the gun 
drill-book — I, for instance, was loading, setting fuses, 
ranging and doing any other work that came to hand. 
Despite this there was nothing whatever to grumble 
about in the way the guns were being served. 

In the darkness we could not see what mischief we 
were doing, but we knew perfectly well that it must 
be enormous, because of the rapidity of our fire and 
the goodness of our shells; and when the daylight 



120 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

came we had proof, for ahead of us were piles of 
Turkish corpses, men who had been killed by our 
shrapnel. 

We went on firing till the Turks had been driven 
back in complete disorder. We kept the game up 
throughout the day, but the darkness prevented us 
from following the enemy's movements. 

We, of course, had no observation-posts at that 
time, as there were no trenches available for the 
observation officers to get to know the results of our 
fire. 

After this promising start things were fairly quiet 
till the small hours of the next morning, when the 
enemy counter-attacked with great fury. The Turks 
are rare good fighters, they knew the country, and 
they had German officers driving them on in the rear, 
brutes who shot them down without mercy time after 
time, as I saw with my own eyes. 

There were some native troops on our right front, 
and these were so hard pressed that they were forced 
to give way. 

A staff officer who was at hand realised instantly 
the serious state of the situation, as the line was 
broken, and he called on some of the gunners in our 
brigade to fill the gap. 

About fifty of our men fell out at once. There 
were hundreds of rifles with fixed bayonets lying on 
the ground around us, and grabbing what they 
wanted of these, our men rushed up and joined in 
the fray, filling the gap and making good the broken 
line before the Turks could understand what was 
happening. 

It was a smart little affair, and the enemy was 
driven back and had to scuttle for shelter to his 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 121 

trenches, where he was left for the time being, for 
our troops were utterly exhausted and a rest was 
necessary. 

We were thankful for a bit of a break. It was not 
for long, but we took things fairly easily till just 
before midday, when another advance was ordered 
against Seddul Bahr, a village of great tactical 
importance some hundreds of yards away, on our 
right front. 

Our brigade was ordered to get ready for action. 
By this time we were better off than we had been, 
for we had established the necessary observation- 
posts, and so we were ready for anything that might 
happen. 

At noon the order came to open fire, and we fairly 
rained shells into the village — hundreds of rounds of 
shrapnel — to help the infantry in their advance. 

The Turks were just as ready as we were, and they 
started a bombardment both from Achi Baba and 
the Turkish forts on the Asiatic side. 

Some of these shells were proper " duds," and they 
made us laugh. It was not necessary to be told that 
they were made in Germany, for they dropped 
harmlessly into the ground, without exploding; but 
of course there were lots that did burst and do 
mischief. Many of these dropped on to the beach 
down below, killing mules and causing losses amongst 
transport drivers and the men of the Army Service 
Corps. Owing to the luck of war we had not many 
casualties in our own battery, and the losses were 
nothing like what you would have expected from such 
a lot of firing from the Turkish guns. 

But we had some sad losses, all the same. 

Our major was amongst the few who were killed 



122 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

that afternoon. He was in an observation-trench 
ahead, and was struck by a piece of shell which 
burst just near him. The news soon spread that he 
had been mortally wounded. He was most popular 
with the men, and as soon as they heard what had 
happened both officers and men rushed out to his 
post, to do what they could for him. But you can't 
do much for a dying man. 

The major did not last long. His last words were, 
" Good luck, boys. Tell my wife I died happy." 

There wasn't a dry eye amongst the men who laid 
him to his last rest. 

They say that misfortunes never come alone, and 
it was all too true of us that day, for in the evening 
the colonel and the adjutant were done to death 
through German treachery. 

We heard, but not till later, that a German came 
along a piece of enemy trench, close to the observation- 
post where the two officers were. 

The German shouted, in quite good English, " All 
officers this way ! " 

The colonel and the adjutant, who did not suspect 
anything, got out on to the parapet of the trench, and 
instantly a hand grenade was thrown from an enemy 
trench quite close at hand. It exploded and killed 
both of them. 

That's the sort of dirty trick which the Germans 
know so well how to play. They have a born gift 
for it — and that reminds me that the Germans who 
were with the Turkish forces were just as dirty and 
brutal in their methods as they are, by all accounts, 
on the Western front. 

Looking through a pair of field-glasses, I have seen 
German officers during an attack by the Turks follow 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 123 

them with revolvers in hand — your German officer 
doesn't lead, he drives, having a precious regard for 
his carcase, and no earthly sense of honour — and I 
have seen them shoot Turkish soldiers who have 
fallen because they have been shot in the leg or have 
stooped to pick up a rifle which had been dropped. 
The German would be about a hundred yards in the 
rear, and would run up and deliberately shoot the 
prostrate man. I am talking now not from hearsay, 
but of what I have seen with my own eyes, and it 
does not help you to love the Germans. 

I once saw a German prisoner, a fair specimen of 
the Prussian bully — he was a lieutenant — knock down 
a British sentry who had told him not to smoke in a 
part of the line where lights were prohibited. It was 
lucky for the bully that a British captain came along 
at the moment, or the fellow would have got the full 
force of the sentry's bayonet. 

I heard Turkish prisoners say that the German 
officers treated the Turks with contempt, and it was 
a marvel that the Turks had not risen and slaughtered 
their so-called benefactors wholesale. 

While on this point, I would like to say that as a 
fighter the Turk is a gentleman. We would go for 
them hammer and tongs in the ordinary way of 
scrapping ; but ten minutes after it was over we would 
gladly shake hands with them — but we wouldn't 
do it with the Germans. 

The dirty trickery that killed our colonel and our 
adjutant made our brigade swear that they would 
never spare the Germans when they met them in the 
way of fighting. 

It was on the third day from the landing that we 
began the great advance which was meant to sweep 



124 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the Turks away from the Peninsula, but which failed 
through lack of men and ammunition. 

On that day we moved our guns forward about 
three hundred yards, and took up a fresh position 
from which we could bombard the enemy with great 
advantage. 

We were in that place for a fortnight, and during 
that time the infantry had many a desperate shot 
at Achi Baba, which was the Turkish stronghold. 
There were many attacks and counter-attacks, with- 
out much apparent advantage to either side; but 
matters favoured the Turks, who had been strongly 
reinforced and had prepared very fine defensive 
positions. 

While we were here our brigade lost a fair number 
of men; but of course the infantry suffered far 
more. 

I am proud to say that our battery was the nearest 
to the Turks, and was constantly in action. 

One night we had a report that the enemy was 
going to attack us in great force, and on the strength 
of the report we had to retire to a safer position. 
We withdrew, not without a lot of grousing among 
the boys, and when we reached our new point we 
were heavily bombarded; but no infantry attack 
followed, as we had been led to expect. 

There was a good deal more grousing next morning 
when we moved forward again, because the Turks 
began to shell us heavily as we went along the road. 
This showed how well informed they were as to our 
movements even since the previous evening; but 
luckily our losses amounted to only two or three 
horses. 

The next day the great retirement of the British 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 125 

forces began, and the whole of our infantry fell back 
about two miles to a point which we had nicknamed 
Clapham Junction, because the two main roads in 
the Peninsula join there. The artillery did not retire, 
being supported on the right and in the rear by 
French troops and the heavy guns. 

Everybody knows now that if there had been 
enough men and ammunition our infantry, instead of 
retiring, would have taken Achi Baba and driven the 
Turks out of the Peninsula. Let us hope that if we 
did not manage to do that, our tremendous losses 
were not in vain, and helped to spoil any plans for 
marching on Egypt and India. 

Early in June we started business again with the 
Turks, and that was when the great battle of Krithia 
took place. This fight lasted two days, but we did 
not make much headway, as the enemy had got big 
reinforcements and had prepared a defensive position 
of enormous strength. 

I had several narrow escapes from death during 
that great fight. 

During a lull I was standing behind a bank with 
two or three other men, watching the enemy's 
artillery shelling a water-cart some distance away. 
The cart was going along a road, and we were wonder- 
ing whether it would get clear or be blown up. While 
I was doing that, a shell burst right over us, making a 
horrible noise and peppering the air with pieces of 
shrapnel. I ducked my head instinctively, and so 
kept it on my shoulders. It was lucky for me that 
I did this, or I should have been killed, because the 
shell burst very low, so low that I got several shrapnel 
bullets through the back of my helmet, and the 
man nearest to me was seriously wounded by flying 



126 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

bits of metal. The third man received a good shaking 
up, but was otherwise unhurt. 

A day or two later I had an even narrower shave 
with death — one of those extraordinary bits of luck 
that are so common in a war like this, that you take 
them almost as a matter of course. 

I wanted to be as comfortable as possible, and so I 
had started to make a dug-out for myself. I was 
under fire, but I did not pay much attention to that. 
I soon found that the ground I was working on was 
in a bad and insanitary state, so I gave up the job, 
and took myself off and began to try my luck at a 
place about fifty yards away. 

I had just got to work on the new pitch when a 
huge high explosive shell dropped plump on the 
ground where I had been digging. It burst with 
tremendous force, and I was pelted with flying clods 
of earth and got a proper good shaking; but beyond 
that I was not hurt. But my first pitch was simply 
shattered, and if I had not cleared out I should have 
been blown to fragments, as I have seen many a fine 
chap blown in Gallipoli. 

One of the very worst of my experiences was one 
day when I went to visit a chum who was on duty at 
the beach. I called at his dug-out, just as you might 
call for a chap at his home, and out he came, smiling, 
walking up to me to shake hands. 

Just at that moment a shell of the enemy dropped 
short. 

I was struck dumb with the shock. When I 
regained myself I looked for my chum, and a terrible 
sight met my gaze, for there he lay in little pieces. 

I felt right cut up, as I had soldiered with him for 
years in India, and I was going to visit his home if we 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 127 

had the luck to get through together. So you see 
we were so near but yet so far in a few seconds, and 
I am one of the lucky ones to be here to tell the tale. 
Out of the whole of the officers and men who came 
from India in my splendid battery, you could almost 
count those who are left on the fingers of your hands. 
Fighting and disease have taken nearly all of them. 

More than once I was nearly " outed " by snipers ; 
but I managed to keep a whole skin. It must be 
said in all fairness that the Turkish snipers were both 
plucky and resourceful — snipers were brought in 
who were found actually in our own lines ; and once 
I was astonished to see a young and pretty Turkish 
girl brought in as a prisoner. She was a sniper, and 
had been hanging about our lines for a fortnight. 
There was no doubt that she was responsible for the 
death of several good men. We were greatly inter- 
ested in this young lady, who was sent off to Tenedos. 

These Turkish marksmen took every risk like good 
sportsmen, and we made their acquaintance right at 
the start, for when we were carrying out our desperate 
landing snipers were actually potting us from the 
beach, where they were covered with sand, so that 
it was almost impossible to see them. After that we 
got used to see snipers brought in who had painted 
themselves green, to match the trees and foliage, 
and others had decked themselves out with branches. 
It was funny to see some of the beggars, and as they 
had played a straight game we could not bear them 
any ill will. It was the Germans who did the dirty 
tricks. 

Now for a few words on how I left the Dardanelles. 

It was about July, when dysentery was at its worst, 
and quite half my battery were sick with it, all at 



128 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the same time. It came to my turn to get it, and I 
was very bad for about three weeks. At last I could 
stand it no longer, for I could not work without 
suffering awful pain — it was like two pieces of sand- 
paper rubbing together in one's inside, with much 
vomiting ; so I was forced to report sick to our doctor, 
who was a gentleman and a brave man. He was 
very kind to me, and did all in his power for my 
benefit. But it was no good. I had to go to hospital. 
I thought this would be at a place a few miles away, 
and I was glad at the prospect of being out of the 
firing, which was awful to a degree, and to get some 
quietness; but I found myself at a beach hospital, 
which was composed of tents and was always under 
fire. Several shells dropped in on us, causing much 
damage and loss in life and material. So I was 
pleased enough when I knew that I was to go on board 
a hospital ship ; gladder still when I knew that I was 
being carried to a place which was a little safer than 
Gallipoli, namely, dear old England. There was no 
room for us at two ports on the way home; but I 
didn't mind that. England was quite good enough 
for me. 

We had a fine though sad voyage. It did one good 
to see the smiles on the faces of the wounded. Though 
they were in great pain, they were cheered with the 
thought that they were leaving a hell on earth for a 
turn in heaven. 

That was the bright side of the case ; the dark side 
was that our engines were continually stopped while 
one of our dear comrades was committed to the deep, 
where he could get the rest which he had so hardly 
won — but it was a godsend after what they had 
suffered. 



A GUNNER AT THE DARDANELLES 129 

I can assure the friends of those who are gone, that 
they were comforted in their last moments by the 
chaplain and nurses, and were given proper Christian 
burial as soldiers who had fought the good fight and 
had fallen in glory. 

The brave nurses were like mothers with young 
children, and deserve the highest praise for what they 
did for us. 

And now, through God's help, I am getting on all 
right, and awaiting orders for the front again, to do a 
bit more for King and country and to shame the 
slackers. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE " FLOOD " 

[The following extract from a letter written by Corporal 
Guy Silk, 2nd Battalion Royal Fusiliers, has been very kindly 
placed at my disposal. It describes a phase of life in Gallipoli 
of which little or nothing has been published — the storms 
and floods with which our troops had to contend in the now 
abandoned operations.] 

I have been wondering how you are getting on, and 
if you have been worrying over the absence of letters. 
There has only been one chance of sending a letter, 
and then I sent a card in an envelope to let you know 
that I was well. We have been through some terrible 
experiences since I last sent a proper letter, on 
November 25th. 

On the 26th we had one more of those terrible 
storms, and suddenly, as I was mopping some water 
from the dug-out floor, a " tidal wave " burst in, and 
I just had time to seize the Company Roll, my diary 
and letters, Horlick's Malted Milk, and my rifle and 
bandolier. Then I climbed out of the dug-out, on 
to the parapet ! The first, or rather second time I 
had done so (the first was to pick some tomatoes). 

By this time the trenches were completely flooded, 
and the whole valley was covered with water ankle- 
deep. As the lightning flashed I saw a group of 
fellows near me, and they joined me on my mound. 
All around were similar groups. We laughed and 

130 



THE 'FLOOD' 181 

pretended to be enjoying it, so as to keep our spirits 
up. 

The water rose and rose, and when it was knee- 
deep we started off for a piece of higher ground we 
saw in the distance. We were in to the waist, and 
the current was tremendous. We settled down on 
this mound — the first one we saw proved to be just 
a clump of weed tops. The regimental sergeant- 
major joined us, but was nearly unconscious, and 
suffering with ague. I laid him on my lap, and there 
we stayed until daylight. 

It was bitterly and painfully cold, and a curious 
sight too, when we first saw the huge mass of water 
and groups of wet men. I took the S.-M. on to 
headquarters, and there he was undressed and rubbed 
and wrapped in some dry blankets. Then our com- 
pany sergeant-major was brought down, quite 
delirious, and Jackson and I took him on to the 
clearing-station. 

It was fine to get on to higher ground out of the 
water. I reckon this walking saved me. I went 
back to the company, and found the water had gone 
from the ground in the valley, and the chaps were 
lying in hastily constructed breastworks behind the 
rear parapet. 

The trenches were like canals, and were acting as 
drains. The Turks shelled a lot. This was on 
Saturday. In the evening and early morning of Sun- 
day it snowed and froze, and on Sunday at daybreak 
we were ordered to find our way to the brigade 
" dump." At about mid-day we got some food and 
dry clothes. It was grand, after two nights and a 
day of sodden and frozen things. 

We had a roll-call on Monday, and we were 63 — 



132 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

on the Friday afternoon we were 600 odd. I was 
made corporal — Baldion said I must be, so as to 
" help to hold the fellows together," and for a few 
days was acting company S.-M. ! 

We expected to go to Alexandria, but had to stay 
to drain the trenches. A big draft joined us, and 
did most of the work, our feet were too sore. (I 
spent one w r hole day rubbing feet — a savoury job, 
since baths are unheard of.) 

On the Thursday after the " Flood " (everything 
dates from the " Flood " now) we went to find equip- 
ment, and the ground was covered with bodies. 

We are back on the Achi Baba end now, but have 
not quite given up hopes of a rest, at least for the 
" survivors." I am orderly-room corporal now. 
Nearly all of us are employed at headquarters, so 
except for shells I am pretty safe, as we don't have to 
make advances. 

We have had no mail since before the " Flood," 

but hope to get one soon. Please tell Aunt I 

received and enjoyed her parcel (some was lost, buried 
when the trench fell in), and explain why I haven't 
answered to thank her for it. Let every one know I 
am still alive in spite of the long silence. We heard 
to-night that no mail is leaving for three weeks from 
to-morrow. The sketch-book has gone. I found it, 
but it was " done." 

We had a busy time when the " Flood " had abated, 
and I was continually taking my section out, digging 
up rifles and equipment, and we were all able to make 
up our losses in the way of shaving apparatus, knives 
and forks, etc. It was hard work, as the trench 
bottoms are knee-deep in mud. We wore waders. 



CHAPTER X 

THE BELGIANS' FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 

[It is hard, in language, to express the thoughts that come 
to one in contemplating the achievements of the Belgian Army 
at the outset of the war. Undoubtedly the coming sure defeat 
of Germany is largely due to the valiant stand which was made 
when the would-be all-world conquerors overran and ravaged 
a little, beautiful and inoffensive neutral state. The knell of 
Prussian doom was sounded first on Belgium's battlefields. 
It was believed that at the utmost Belgians could only make 
a pretence of fighting; but the little army of our brave ally 
defied and held at bay the braggart hosts of Germany in an 
almost incredible manner. What happened in those fateful 
days, which seem so far and yet in reality are so near is told 
by Soldat Francois Rombouts, of the 8th Regiment of the 
Line, Belgian Army.] 

I was in the Belgian Army before the war broke out. 
I was a conscript of the 1913 class, and went to my 
regiment from the sea. For five years I had been 
crossing the Atlantic in liners sailing from Antwerp — 
and how beautiful it was in the summer-time on the 
blue sea, with the hot sun shining; and how hard 
and cold in the winter, peering into the grey gales 
from the crow's-nest ! I loved the sea, and I loved 
my regiment, especially when I had my rifle in my 
hands and with my keen sea eyes I could make out 
the Germans and use them as targets. I do not know 
how many I shot — I hope and believe a big number — 
because when they fall it may not be always to your 
own bullet. But I saw very many of them fall before 

133 



134 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

I was wounded and had to lie in bed for sixteen weeks, 
helpless, like a child. 

Look at my right arm. Here, on the inside, a 
bullet went in. If it had been an ordinary bullet, 
like the one you show me — you say the cartridge was 
given to you by a British Guardsman who was at 
Landrecies and carried it there with him? — it would 
have gone through the arm and made only a little 
hole, which would soon have become well ; but the 
bullet was explosive. See, here at the entrance is 
the small scar ; but at the outside of the arm there is 
this long and ragged blue mark, because the bullet 
that struck me was what you call a dum-dum. Feel 
the wound, it does not hurt me now. That hard- 
ness is bone. It was carried away from the flesh and 
broken, and there it has set and will remain. For 
many weeks my hand was like this — a bunch, you 
call it ? — because I could not open it out. I was hurt 
in other ways also by German fire ; but I am young — 
only twenty-two years — and very strong, and I may 
yet again go back to the Belgian Army. If I do, and 
we get into Germany — as we shall — for every Belgian 
life that has been taken we shall take one German, 
and more; for every Belgian home that has been 
destroyed we shall burn or destroy one, and more, 
and for all the innocent women and little children 
and helpless old men that have been murdered we 
shall make them pay in German soldiers and in 
German soil. 

I have my mother and sisters still in Belgium, where 
the German beasts are ; and I do not know the truth 
of them. I pray that they are well; but if I learn 
that they have come to harm I will never rest until 
I have had my revenge in Germany, All Belgians 



FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 135 

will tell you the same as that. How can it be other- 
wise when they have seen what I have seen — their 
country run over and beaten down and taken by these 
German hosts, who have swarmed over it like dirty 
beasts and fouled it ? 

How well I remember that night in Antwerp when 
the war broke out ! It was eleven o'clock and the 
church bells were ringing. 

That was the sound of war. 

Several days we had been out of barracks, enjoy- 
ing ourselves; but this night they would not allow 
us to go out. 

My mother and sisters and brothers came, crying. 
They said, " The Germans will kill you ! " But I 
said, " Shut up ! It will not be so. Besides, I am 
a single man, and so I do not care. It is not as if 
I had a wife and children." So they were comforted, 
and I made myself happy by myself. 

We were singing and whistling and dancing all 
night in barracks; then in the early morning we 
marched to Brussels, and after being there two days 
we were ordered to take the train to go to Liege, to 
keep the Germans back, and as we went along the 
people shouted, " Good Belgians ! Good Belgians ! " 

We went by train to Liege, fifty miles away. We 
had got the orders we were waiting for in the evening 
— the orders to stop the Germans. If we could not 
stop them there, we were told, they would get through. 
And how true it proved ! 

We were in the train all night, singing and whist- 
ling, and all what we can do in a train to make soldiers 
happy. 

The regiment that had gone before my own regi- 
ment was fighting. We had gone as reinforcements, 



136 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

and when we got to Liege at four o'clock on that 
August morning and got out of the train, fighting 
was going on. 

I saw the Germans at once — we went straight into 
the street from the train and fought them. 

We were excited, yes, but not afraid. They had 
come into our little country, where they had no right 
to be, and our only wish was to drive them away. 

We rushed from the train with our loaded rifles. 
I did not know Liege. It was all strange to me; 
but all streets are much the same, and it was enough 
that the Germans were in them and must be driven 
out. 

We fired on them, and they retired; but only a 
little way and for a little while, because there were so 
many of them. And in the evening they came back. 

We fought them in the streets when they came, 
and we rushed into the houses and shot them from 
the windows and doorways. 

Even now, so soon, I learned the truth of what I 
had said to my weeping mother in the barracks at 
Antwerp. She said, " The Germans will kill you ! " 
and I told her, " No. I am not afraid of anything. 
The Germans cannot kill me ! " And they did not — 
not then, and not later, though I was shot in the right 
arm with an explosive bullet and afterwards in the 
right foot, of which I will tell you. 

I do not know whether I killed any Germans at 
Liege, but I hope I did. You could see them falling 
over, but could not say who killed them. 

We hated them because they had come into Belgium. 

We were fighting all night, the rifles crackling be- 
cause of the constant firing of the magazines. 

We chased the Germans into the fields outside 



FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 137 

Liege. We got at stragglers with the bayonet, and 
we brought fifteen prisoners in. How amusing it was 
when we caught them ! They said, " Oh, my Belgian 
brother ! " We left them with contempt, and looked 
after other ones. Then, when we had got them, they 
were sent to the station and so to Antwerp. 

The Germans came on in such strength that we 
could not stop them; but in spite of all their guns 
and regiments we held Liege for twenty-four days. 
We had only 300,000 Belgians in our army, and the 
Germans had about a million; but I would not run 
away from fifteen Germans myself. The Belgians 
called the Germans " swine," and said, " we will be 
giving the Germans one presently ! " 

And we gave them one. 

We went into the trenches, and the Germans were 
bombarding us and smashing the place up. We did 
as much as we could to keep them back. 

Houses were smashed and everybody seemed to be 
killed or wounded. The shells came on top of you 
and spread out like an umbrella. A lot of my friends 
were killed and fell over in the trenches. 

When we were in the trenches a man near me was 
not happy, because he was married and his thoughts 
were with his wife and children and home ; but when 
we were going on firing I said, " Look ! A German 
has fallen over again ! " And then he was happy. 
He was married and I was single, and that made 
the difference. 

If you had your friend in the trenches you did your 
best for him, because you liked to take your friend 
home again; but many friends were left in the 
trenches. 

Did I see General Leman, the defender and hero 



138 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

of Liege? Oh, yes. General Leman was a good 
man. He came round and saw the soldiers and 
talked to us and made us happy. 

I do not know how many we lost in Liege. We had 
a lot wounded and killed and missing; but we onty 
knew this from the newspapers. 

We were on duty in the trenches for twenty-four 
hours, then we were relieved. At the end of the 
twenty-four days for which we held Liege we went 
to Anden, ten miles away. We retired in the day- 
time, without any fighting, and were in Anden about 
fifteen days. W T e never saw the Germans there. 

And now I became a motor cyclist, which gave 
me many adventures and exciting journeys. I was 
with a friend, a motor cyclist also, and we were recon- 
noitring near Anden. We saw a big house, a chateau, 
standing in its own grounds, with trees. They are 
beautiful and peaceful houses, and you saw many of 
them in Belgium before the war. 

" There are some Germans here ! " my friend said. 
We looked and listened, and what he said was true. 
There were Germans in the chateau, but how many 
in number we did not know. 

W r e hurried away to our officer and told him, and 
he sent three companies of soldiers to attack the 
chateau. How well they marched up, and how from 
behind the trees and other points of shelter they fired 
upon that big house in the trees, with the Germans 
making themselves happy in it. 

I and my friend had acted as guides to the com- 
panies, and now we saw the Belgian soldiers firing 
upon the chateau, and the surprised Germans rushing 
to the windows and doors and behind the trees to 
fire back. 



FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 139 

It was a furious fight, and it lasted for two hours. 
Then we got the house — the Germans ran away, and 
we took it and occupied it. But next day the Ger- 
mans came back in stronger numbers and retook the 
chateau; and the day after that we once more got 
the house and killed all the Germans. We knew 
that we could not hold it long, because we had not 
enough soldiers, and when we had been at the chateau 
for about four hours, and the Germans came up 
stronger than ever, we had to leave, We had not had 
many losses — two or three men killed. One was shot 
through the heart, and another was mortally wounded 
and lived a few hours. 

There is a river at Anden, and when we retired we 
had to cross a bridge. When we had crossed the 
bridge we blew it up, so that the Germans should be 
delayed in pursuing us. Then, when we were retir- 
ing, and had seen the bridge destroyed, we were made 
unhappy because we saw that on the other side of 
the water, which was now the German side, there was 
a company of Belgian infantry, which could not cross. 

It was terrible and sad. What was to be done ? 
How were our comrades to be saved, to come to us, 
to be kept from capture or killing by the Germans ? 

The commander of the company was quick to think 
and act. He knew that at Namur there were some 
boats, three or four of them. He ordered a cyclist 
to go and have the boats sent to Anden, so that the 
men could cross. And the cyclist went. It seemed 
so long before the boats came; but they appeared 
at last, and the soldiers got into them, crowding five 
and six in one small boat, and then being rowed over 
the river. All the time the Germans were firing on 
the company from the big hills which are there ; but 



140 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

we could not fire back, and all we could do was to 
watch our comrades on the other side of the river, 
walking about and eagerly waiting for the boats. 
They tumbled into the boats and came across the 
river to us, and we shouted and laughed when they 
were near enough for us to get at them, and to help 
them to jump on to the bank and to say defiance to 
the German bullets. 

There is a railway tunnel at Anden, and we were 
ordered to go to it. We went. There is a big wood 
at the tunnel, and from this wood there came a party 
of Uhlans, fifteen of them, commanded by a lieutenant. 

Three or four Belgians fired on the cavalry, who 
were taken by surprise. The lieutenant was shot in 
the side, next his heart, and he fell from his horse. 
The soldiers went up to him to make him prisoner 
of war, but he did not want to be taken, and he fired 
on them with his revolver. So it was necessary for 
them to shoot him, and they did. 

When he was killed four soldiers carried him on 
two rifles, one under his back and one under his legs, 
to the major of the Belgian battalion, who ordered 
that he should be buried. So a grave was dug and 
the lieutenant was buried, and planks were put over 
him, and he was left there to his rest, and we attended 
to the German wounded. 

After what happened by the railway tunnel we were 
ordered to make trenches ; but the Germans came up 
and forced us to retire to Namur, an old city and 
fortress. 

We saw many refugees who were flying from the 
Germans, who had come and stolen their land and 
plundered it and overrun it like dirty beasts. There 
were old men and women and children, and it was 



FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 141 

pitiful to see them; yet it made us fiercer in our 
fighting with the Germans. 

Near Anden I saw a column of refugees, a little line 
of about thirty-five people, and at the head of them 
was a man dressed like a tourist, with a soft hat, 
breeches and leggings. He was looking under trees 
and all around him, as if taking care of the refugees. 

Then, when we had seen this tourist, a boy came up 
to me on a bicycle, and said, " There is a German spy ! " 

I called my corporal, and instantly we had soldiers 
searching in the trees and fields and everywhere ; but 
we did not see another trace of the " tourist," who 
was the German spy, though we did not suspect it 
when we saw him leading the refugees like a shepherd 
leads his flock. 

That was sad, to miss him so; but another spy I 
got at Namur. I saw a man standing amongst the 
trees, dressed in civilian clothes. He was about 
fifty-nine years old and had long whiskers, such as 
you see on many tourists. 

I went up to him as he was standing by a tree. I 
was alert, for I was reconnoitring and expected things 
to take place. 

Before he could understand me and be ready to 
explain, I rushed at him and had him by the arms and 
held them to his back. My comrades came up and 
sent him with his long whiskers to the regiment. I 
do not know what happened to him. I hope they 
shot him. 

I have here in my pocket an electric lamp with a 
bull's eye. It gives a fine strong light. No, this is 
not what I carried in Belgium, because I exchanged 
mine with an Englishman for his; but it is just the 
same. And with these pocket electric lamps we 



142 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

used to search the houses for Germans that were 
hiding from us. We would find them in dark corners 
and cellars, and when the light was snapped on them 
they would throw up their hands and cry, "Oh, 
my Belgian brothers ! " 

Then we would say, " Come out of it, and we will 
give you Belgian brothers ! " But we always made 
them prisoners, and did not kill them. It was 
" Belgian brothers ! " when death was on them, but 
in the trenches they called us " Belgian swine " and 
" little devils. " We gave them " swine " presently. 

We had been fighting much and had been in the 
trenches many days, so that we were very tired, and 
thankful to get three or four days' rest in Namur. 
Then, after that blessed change, we went into the 
firing again, which was shrapnel, and terrible. 

Namur was a very strong place and was not ex- 
pected to fall; but the Germans had made long 
preparations for the war, and were bombarding with 
enormous guns — I saw German guns that took twenty- 
two horses to draw them. 

At Namur we lost a lot of men, because of the heavy 
gun-fire. All the wounded soldiers and prisoners 
of war were there; but the Germans did not care 
about that — they fired on the hospital and smashed 
it up. When we lost Antwerp the prisoners of war 
were taken away; but when we lost Belgium we 
could not keep the prisoners, and the Germans got 
them back again. 

After the battle of Namur the regiment was smashed 
up, like many others. Every man was looking after 
himself and trying to find his own regiment, which 
was not easy. 

Here is a photograph of Namur, showing the bridge 



FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 143 

which crosses the river. I was the last man to cross 
the bridge when we were forced to leave Namur; 
and for two nights I was in one of these old houses 
which you can see here in the picture. When I was 
over the bridge I met a couple of men of my com- 
pany, and we watched some firing in the distance and 
felt happy, because we knew that it was the firing 
of French soldiers, who were just outside Namur. 

We were stragglers, and I and a corporal joined 
the Frenchmen. It was now that many Belgians 
who were caught by the Germans were shot — yes, 
in threes and fours Belgians were shot by Germans. 

There are good Germans and bad Germans ; but 
more bad Germans than good ones. 

We crossed the frontier and got into France, and 
rested ourselves. I found some of my old friends 
again, but not all, because a lot had been lost. 

In France we made up the regiment again. I had 
got to Le Havre, and from there I went to Ostende. 
We had two days in Ostende, then I went back to 
my dear Antwerp, which was before the Germans got 
there. From Antwerp I went to Conte, where we 
had a fortnight's rest, after which we went to Malines. 
There was not much fighting at Malines, but there had 
been a lot before we got there, and the place had been 
destroyed. At that time the Germans were holding 
the town, but we drove them out. Afterwards we 
lost it, because they came in heavy numbers, and 
we could not stop the big guns. 

We went up to Conte again about four o'clock in 
the morning, and later we advanced to Termonde, 
about twenty-five miles from Antwerp. Our 1st 
battalion had been ordered to attack Termonde, and 
the 2nd was stopping outside for reserve. 



144 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

We saw our 1st battalion go and assault the place ; 
and then we saw it come back, and sad it was to see 
them, because those who returned were mostly 
wounded men in ambulances. There were many 
wounded, as the attack had lasted three hours and 
our comrades had had to cross the river under fire. 

Then it was, when the wounded began to come 
back in the ambulances, that we were ordered to go 
in and push the Germans back. We had to go over 
some fields, and crossing them was like walking on 
rubber, because of the dead bodies. These bodies 
had been taken from the trenches, when it was no 
longer possible to have them there, and had been put 
in the fields. Sometimes they had been in the trenches 
three or four days, and we had to eat and drink and 
sleep with them there. And in the fields that felt 
like rubber, there were arms and legs and heads stick- 
ing out. Ah, yes, it was horrible indeed. And this 
was the war that the Germans had brought into our 
little country, which had done them no wrong what- 
ever, and where they had no right to be. It will be 
the same for them when we get into Germany ! 

In Termonde it was fierce fighting all the time I 
was there, and that was for six days. And I tell you 
that we Belgians did fight; for when we went into 
Termonde, driving the Germans out, we saw the bodies 
of women and children and old men that they had 
massacred — and most of us were crying as we passed 
them. The Germans can do what they like in war- 
time, and these were some of the things they liked. 

When we saw the Germans at Termonde, after 
seeing those murdered women and children and old 
men, we rushed at them with the bayonet, burning 
to drive our steel into the monsters. 



FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 145 

We rushed up to them in our fury, and I drove my 
long bayonet at a German soldier. I struck at him 
blindly, but I do not know where I hit him, because 
at such a time you look after one German and then 
after another, so that you shall get many of them; 
but his own bayonet came at me and cut across my 
right fingers. You can see the scars here — but they 
are nothing. 

It was hard and fierce work; but I was still well. 
I was tired and sleepy at the end, and was almost 
killed by bursting shrapnel. Pieces struck me, and 
one went through my right boot and between the 
toes. But that also was nothing. 

The evening came, and it was just dark. That 
was October 1st. I had been in the trenches, and was 
lying down under some trees, resting. Firing was 
going on still, but we were indifferent to it, and I 
did not care until I was struck on the right arm by 
an explosive bullet, a dum-dum. I was lying there, 
bleeding, with my badly torn arm, for three-quarters 
of an hour ; then some of my friends came and picked 
me up and gave me a drink and bandaged my arm. 
At nine o'clock a doctor came along and sent me to 
a church, which was being used as a hospital. There 
I spent the night, waiting for the morning, when I 
was to have an operation. 

The morning came, and brought with it one of the 
strange adventures of a soldier in the war. 

I was taken on a wheeled ambulance to a part of 
the church which was used as an operating-room, and 
there my torn arm was treated, without pain to me. 
A nun, who like her other sisters of mercy was a nurse, 
had the care of me, and she was wheeling me back 
to my bed. 

L 



146 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

There was the big entrance to the church near my 
bed, and as I was being wheeled I saw in that entrance 
many German soldiers, who were about to rush into 
the church and seize it. 

Quick as thought my nurse wheeled me back, and 
rushed with me to a door at the back of the church, 
and out into the open air. She was quite calm, 
which was well for me, and she hurried me to an 
English motor ambulance, which was standing at the 
door and had one English soldier in. 

The nun cried to the chauffeur, saying that the 
Germans were taking the church, and telling him to 
help her to push me into the ambulance. 

The chauffeur, who was an Englishman, quickly 
and calmly obeyed, and he and the nun got me in- 
side, on my stretcher ; then the chauffeur jumped up 
into his seat, and the motor ambulance tore away and 
took me into Antwerp. I was in hospital in my native 
city two days, when the Germans bombarded the city. 
I was there during the whole of the bombardment ; 
then when the Germans took Antwerp my mother took 
me out of hospital. There was much excitement 
and commotion, and it was not a happy thing to be 
wounded then; but an English ambulance came, 
and I was asked if I could speak English. I said 
44 Yes." 

44 Do you want to go to Ostende ? " the man asked, 
and again I said 44 Yes." 

It was a time for haste. A few minutes more, and 
if I had not been able to speak English I should have 
been too late, for the train into which I was put by 
an English marine was the last to leave Antwerp 
before the Germans entered the city. 

Again the Germans came to where I was, and sol 



FIGHT WITH GERMAN HOSTS 147 

had to leave Ostende. I went from there by train 
to France, and from France I came to England. 

I still stop in England. It is a good country, and 
I feel safe here. It is strange to see beautiful cities 
not bombarded and smashed by the Germans, and 
not to see the worst of all — the murdered little 
children. 

If the Germans were in this country it would be 
just the same, or worse. 

I think much of my country, little but beautiful, 
as it was ; but ruined now. 

I am young. When I am old Belgium may be as 
it was before. 

I have an eager wish, and to have it fulfilled would 
make me very happy indeed — and that is to see 
Belgian, English, and French soldiers march into 
Germany ! 



CHAPTER XI 

A BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS 

[This is a simple, unaffected story of the doings of a young 
British soldier in Gallipoli and his subsequent experiences as 
a prisoner of war with the Turks. It is told by Private David 
Melling, l/8th Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers. He was a lad 
when he enlisted, his eyesight was destroyed by a bullet, he 
was captured on the battlefield by the Turks, and was the 
first British prisoner of war to be released from Constantinople. 
The narrator, when seen, was an inmate of the Blinded Soldiers' 
and Sailors' Hostel, Regent's Park, N.W., the wonderful in- 
stitution which Mr. C. Arthur Pearson founded and controls 
with so much success in the interests of those whose affliction 
he understands so well.] 

I enlisted in the Lancashire Fusiliers in November 
1914, when I was only seventeen years old, and in 
June 1915 I went to Gallipoli, where we landed in 
the night-time. A big ship had been run aground 
there — the River Clyde — and pontoon bridges had 
been made at the side of her, connecting with the 
shore. We left our transport and got into little 
steam trawlers, which were out at the Dardanelles 
as mine-sweepers and so on, and these took us to the 
pontoon bridges. We hurried over them, under fire, 
and having got ashore we went straight into a bivouac 
rest-camp. We spent five days in the camp, then we 
went into the support line of trenches, which is the 
second line, and after a week or two we went on 
fatigue. 

We were in a Turkish communication -trench, 
digging it wider, and we came across all sorts of queer 

148 



BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS 149 

things. We dug a dead Turk up, a chap without a 
head, and near him we dug up one of our short 
Lee-Enfield rifles. He had equipment on, and when 
we looked into his pouches we found that he had 
some of our ammunition, besides his own. We 
supposed from the look of things that he had been 
knocked over by a shell and buried in the rubbish. 
We were throwing the earth out and making the 
trench deeper when we came across the Turk's head. 
One chap got it on a shovel and fired it over the top 
of the parapet. You got used to digging bodies up — 
it was nothing to strike one with your pick or shovel. 

All this experience was good for us, and got us 
used to fighting before we were actually in it, because 
there was firing going on all the time, and prepara- 
tions were being made for charging the Turks with 
the bayonet. 

Things began to get very warm early in August. 
At about five o'clock on the afternoon of the 6th, 
which was a Friday, there was a heavy bombard- 
ment and a big advance on the left of the Peninsula — 
that was Suvla Bay. According to the arrangements 
we were to charge on the Saturday morning, two 
hours after the bombardment began. The bombard- 
ment was to have started at five o'clock ; but some- 
how the Turks got to know about it, and our attack 
was postponed till ten o'clock. At that hour we 
were ready for our job. 

I shall never forget that Saturday morning at Achi 
Baba. I had my sight then, and could watch all 
that was going on. We were on the ledge of our 
trench, waiting to spring over and rush at the Turks. 

Our officer was standing by us, looking at the watch 
on his wrist — and a terrible strain it must have been. 



150 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

" Two minutes to go ! " he said. And we waited. 

" One minute to go ! " said the officer next time 
he spoke. 

Then, at ten o'clock, " Over ! " he shouted. That's 
all I remember of what he said. He may have said 
more, but I can't tell. " Over ! " was the order, 
and over we went. 

We all cheered, and then wC went helter-skelter 
for the Turks with the bayonet. 

They were said to be two hundred and fifty yards 
away, but it was a lot more than that — at any rate 
it seemed so. And the ground we had to rush over 
was terrible — rough and with a lot of vines about 
that twined round your feet and tripped you up. 
Some of our chaps were knocked flat in this way, 
some fell of exhaustion, and lots were killed or 
wounded. The best part of our lot were knocked 
out before we ever got near the Turks. 

But when we reached the trench that we were 
going for we found that there were not many of the 
Turks left. Our gunners had settled them, so that 
the trench was full of dead Turks, some of them with 
their heads blown completely off. 

Our task was simple enough. We had to go for 
one particular trench that was straight in front of us. 

I can't give any special particulars about what 
happened, because it was all a sort of blurr, but I 
remember a few things clearly, and it's these that I 
am telling of. 

The trench was up a hillside, and when I got to 
it I saw that part of it had been blown up. I rushed 
at the opening, and fell into the trench. I was 
alone. I don't know whether I was the first man in 
the trench or not; but I do know that there were 



BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS 151 

none of our chaps there — only myself and dead 
bodies. 

I scrambled to my feet, and the first thing I 
noticed near me was a Turkish officer, wounded and 
unarmed. 

There we were, the two of us, the Turk looking at 
me and me looking at him. I had my bayonet, and 
I could have settled him or taken him prisoner; but 
British soldiers don't touch unarmed men, and I 
was too busy to take him — and a man who is by 
himself doesn't as a rule make prisoners. 

I was looking to see which way to go to get to our 
other chaps, and the Turkish officer, noticing this, 
motioned down the trench to the left to show me 
where they had gone. 

I began to clear off to them, but in my eagerness 
and excitement I did not notice a wire which ran 
across the top of the parapet. Before I knew what 
was happening my rifle got fast in the wire at the 
bayonet-standard — that is, where the bayonet fixes 
on to the muzzle. 

Then an extraordinary thing took place. My rifle 
was tilted over and the bayonet stuck in the back 
of a Turk who was huddled up in the bottom of the 
trench. The first I saw of him was when my bayonet 
struck him. I looked to see if he was dead, but he 
never moved. I don't know whether I killed him 
or not, but if he wasn't dead he was a good actor. 

I had been about two minutes — it may have been 
longer — in getting my rifle clear of the wire, and all 
that time, for it seemed long, I was alone. When 
I pulled myself together and went on again in the 
trench I came face to face with a Turk who was 
coming from the opposite direction. He seemed to 



152 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

be mad, and made a lunge at me with his bayonet; 
but it was broken and no good to him. He saw that 
and turned to run away. As he did so I bayoneted 
him in the back, and he fell. I could have shot 
him, but my magazine was empty, for I had been 
firing a lot. 

I passed the Turk and then I found our chaps. It 
seemed a good distance from where I got into the 
trench to where I found them — I know I had to go 
round one or two bends. 

When we got together again — and it was a joy to 
be back with my chums — we were ordered to line 
the trench. I don't know who gave the order, but it 
wasn't an officer. 

I was the end man of the line, and we were firing 
hard when a bullet came, and all I knew was that I 
could not see and that I was lying on the floor of the 
trench, with one of our chaps bandaging me — I 
don't know who it was. 

I was left there while they went on firing. 

I don't know how long I was lying there; but I 
was terribly thirsty, and drank two bottles of water — 
my own and one I took from a dead man near me. I 
could not see him, but I felt by groping about his 
equipment that he was a British chap. 

There were not enough of our men to hold the 
trench, and they were forced to retire and leave me. 

The Turks came up in the trench, and I heard them 
shouting something like " Garrah ! Garrah ! " though 
it may have been " Allah ! Allah ! " 

They were fearfully excited, and I thought it was 
all up with me then. I never gave myself any 
hope. 

The Turks were running about the trench, looking 



BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS 153 

for our chaps. They ran over me, no doubt think- 
ing I was dead. I was lying on my side, with my 
hands covering my head, holding the bandages to 
stop the blood from coming out. I had to do that, 
because it was only a field -dressing. 

I knew then that I had lost my eyes. 

I felt as if all the bones in my body were broken 
with the Turks running over me and stepping on me. 

After some time had passed the Turks settled down 
a bit, not being so excited, and then they began to 
search the trench and examine the bodies and men 
in it. Seeing that I was not dead, they propped me 
up and began searching my pockets. They were 
talking away, but, of course, I could not understand 
them. They were not rough just then, but they 
were afterwards, when I was being led out. They 
took my pay-book and photographs and everything 
I had. 

I stood up, and then the Turks took me to a 
communication-trench about ten yards away. 

As I was passing them in the firing-line they hit 
out at me with their hands, trying boxing com- 
petitions on me. They dared not have done this if 
a Turkish officer had been about. 

Two more Fusiliers were being led away along with 
me. They had both been bayoneted, they told me, 
after they were captured. 

I was taken to a place where there were Turkish 
doctors. One of them gave me a cup of tea. He 
could speak English, and he asked me how I was. 
I told him I was pretty bad. I was given a piece of 
dry bread, but I could not eat it, because my teeth 
were closed. 

It was here that I met a New Zealander or an 



154 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Australian, a gunner, who had been in the charge. 
He had no right to be in it, but you could not keep 
the Anzacs out of the scraps. He said that he and 
a pal were passing through the place when they saw 
what was going on. Each of them got hold of a 
rifle and bayonet and rushed into the charge. The 
pal was killed and the other man was taken prisoner. 

From the doctors' place I was taken to a sort of 
dug-out, which had some kind of grass in it that felt 
like heather. The two bayoneted chaps had been 
taken there as well, and I was very glad to have 
their company. 

I was left in the dug-out all night, with the other 
two Fusiliers alongside of me. In the morning we 
were put into oxen carts, four wounded men in 
each. They were rough things without springs, and 
were slowly dragged over rough tracks — you could 
not call them roads — so that it was fair torture to 
us, bumping all the while. 

At last we were stopped at a place and changed into 
another oxen cart, and taken farther on. We stopped 
again, and were given a drink out of a bucket — they 
must have thought we were horses. I suppose they 
must have been giving a mule a drink, and then it 
struck them that they might give us a turn. But 
bucket or no bucket it was a fine drink. 

After that I went into a field hospital, and for the 
first time since I had been wounded I had my eyes 
properly attended to. 

A Turkish doctor who could speak a little English 
said " Eyes I " then a word that sounded like " yolk." 
I suppose he meant that my eyes were gone; but I 
knew that before he did. 

After I had been attended to I was put into a 



BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS 155 

field hospital and fed three times a day. First of all 
we had a ration of bread, which had to last all day, 
and a drink of tea; about the middle of the day 
we were given some soup, which the chaps called 
" bill-posters' paste." It was awful stuff, and the 
chaps who were badly wounded in the body could 
not do with it, so they used to tipple their lot into 
my basin and I would get through it, as well as 
through my own. I could not eat bread or any- 
thing else, because my jaws were affected and my 
face was badly swollen — it is partly swollen still, 
but I could just manage to suck the " bill-posters' 
paste " through my teeth. 

It was not until now that I really understood 
what had happened to me. A bullet had struck me 
on the left side of the forehead and gone clean through 
both eyes, just missing the brain, and out at the right 
side — a wonderful escape from instant death, as our 
own doctors told me afterwards. 

We were given cigarettes in the field hospital — a 
packet of twenty on every one of the five days we 
were there; and those cigarettes were a real treat. 

At the end of the five days we had another dose 
of oxen carts, and were jolted in them to the sea- 
shore, where we were put into a steamer. They told 
us in the field hospital that we were bound for Con- 
stantinople, and I was rather glad I was going there. 
I did not want to stop any longer under the ever- 
lasting shell fire. 

When we went on board we got a loaf of bread 
and a drink of tea and a drink of water, and that 
was all we had for the three days we were in the 
ship. She was full, the place where I was put being 
crowded with Englishmen, though there was a Turk 



156 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

on a seat above me. I was lying on the floor 
under it. 

It was a great relief to get to the end of the voyage 
and go ashore. I was taken off the boat, and as we 
went down the gangway chaps were handing out nice 
new pieces of bread, hot, and cups of tea. I was 
lucky, because I had my cup filled twice. 

I was taken into a big hall — it seemed to be a 
sort of drill-hall — and was given another drink of 
tea and piece of bread. Then we were taken in open 
carriages, drawn by two horses, to different hospitals. 
I well remember that my carriage had rubber tyres — 
and that was very nice indeed after travelling in the 
oxen carts. 

I was carried on a stretcher into a hospital near 
the quayside, and here I was turned into a sort of 
Turk, for I was served with a pair of Turkish trousers 
big enough to fit six of us. They tied round the 
waist and ankles. I had a shirt also given to me, a 
sort of big gown which was tied round the waist. 
We looked like Julius Caesar in them. 

The Turks dressed my eyes and put me into a 
bed, and I was glad to get in, because I had been 
thrown about for ten days since I was wounded. 

I was in this hospital for about three weeks, treated 
by Turkish ladies who were acting as nurses. A 
lady who was there was said to be an Egyptian 
princess, the late Khedive of Egypt's sister, and she 
could speak English. She asked me my age, parents' 
names, occupation and address at home, and said 
that next day she would write to my mother, to tell 
her how I was getting on; but when next day came 
I told her that a chap in my regiment had written 
home for me. She then told me a bit of joyful 



BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS 157 

news, and that was that I was going to be sent 
home. 

There was a German Bible-reader in the hospital. 
We called him Charlie, and I will say for him that 
he was like a brother to us. There are good and 
bad in every race, and this was one of the good 
Germans. He brought two Bibles in for chaps to 
read who could see. 

At the end of the three weeks an order came for all 
prisoners to go into barracks, and I was taken off in 
a carriage. This time I suppose I looked a real Turk, 
for I had a fez, though I had my baggy trousers 
hidden by my khaki trousers, which I had put over 
them, the Turkish doctor having told me to do this 
to keep me warm. I scored there, because I don't 
think that the Turks meant me to walk off with the 
baggy breeches. But I kept them on all right, and 
I have them at home now, as a memento. 

In these barracks we slept on a long platform, on 
a sort of thick matting, which was very verminous. 
At first we were fed pretty well, and then not so 
well, because the Turkish food is not fit for English- 
men, and they have only two meals a day. They 
gave us rice and meat, but only a very little piece 
of meat. The rice was cooked in olive oil, and it 
seemed good when we were hungry, though we did 
not care for it. We used to get a ration of bread 
every afternoon about four o'clock. When that 
time came our chaps, who were in good spirits, sing- 
ing and whistling, used to kick up a row and shout, 
" Hich, Hich ! " which was supposed to be Turkish, 
and meant hurry up with the bread. 

It was the Sultan's birthday while we were in 
barracks, but they did not give us anything extra 



158 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

on that account. The Turkish Christmas was 
celebrated in August, too, but we never heard 
anything about it. 

The American Ambassador came and visited us 
and gave us forty piastres each, equal to six and 
eightpence. The Ambassador used to come round 
to see that we were well treated, and we were always 
glad to see him. Through his efforts I got released, 
and was then sent into the American Hospital in 
Constantinople. I was there about a week, after 
which I was put in charge of two American sailors 
and sent to Dedeagatch, in Bulgaria, the place that 
has been bombarded lately. We stayed in a place 
called the H6tel London, supposed to be the best 
hotel in the town ; but the sailors said it was nothing 
but an old shack. We were paying for our food and 
so on, as the Ambassador had supplied us with 
money for our fares and keep, and the two sailors 
looked after me all the time. 

After two or three days' rest a train journey of a 
day took us to another town called Drama, which 
is in Greece ; from there we went to Salonica, where 
1 was handed over first to the American Consul and 
then to the British Consul, who passed me on to 
the military authorities. The British commander- 
in-chief asked me some questions about officers who 
were prisoners of war, and so on, and I told him 
what I could. 

For a fortnight after that I was in a hospital ship 
in the bay, the Grantully Castle, happy and well 
looked after; then we went to Lemnos and on to 
Alexandria, where I had another spell in hospital — 
four days. Then it was really a case of home- 
ward bound, for I was put on board the Ghurka on 



BLINDED PRISONER OF THE TURKS 159 

November 7, and we sailed for Southampton. On 
board the Ghurka we had concerts and a good time 
until the 19th, when we reached Southampton. I 
went to St. Mark's Military Hospital, Chelsea, then 
came to this wonderful place, St. Dunstan's Hostel, 
which Mr. C. Arthur Pearson founded, and where I 
am very happy and learning poultry farming. 



CHAPTER XII 

HOW THE "FORMIDABLE" WAS LOST 

[Just after the New Year, 1915, had broken the British 
battleship Formidable, successor of the famous ship with 
which the name of the gallant Rodney is so closely associated, 
was lost while steering westward in the Channel. In the 
official announcement it was stated that the cause of her loss 
was either mine or torpedo, but it was not known which. Later, 
however, it was stated in the House of Lords that she had 
been twice torpedoed. The Formidable was a pre-Dread- 
nought of 15,000 tons and 15,000 horse-power. In herself 
she was not a serious loss ; but she carried a crew of between 
700 and 800 men, and of these only 201 were saved. Once 
more the unconquerable spirit of British seamen was shown, 
as will be seen from this story of the only survivor of his watch 
— William Edward Francis, who was a stoker in the lost battle- 
ship.] 

I had what I take to be a narrow escape of being 
lost when the three cruisers were torpedoed in the 
North Sea. 

I had been called up from the Royal Naval 
Reserve and drafted to the Cressy, which, with her 
sister ships the Hogue and Aboukir, was lost; but 
almost at the last moment I was transferred, with a 
chum, to another ship. 

I was spared to take a part in the victory of 
Heligoland Bight; then afterwards, from a port-hole 
of my own ship, the Formidable, I saw her sister, the 
Bulwark, blown up, with the loss of nearly every 
man on board. We were moored close to the 
Bulwark at the time, and it was a terrible sight to 

160 



HOW THE « FORMIDABLE' WAS LOST 161 

see her go like that. The Germans, however, had 
nothing to do with the loss of the Bulwark, which 
was destroyed by one of those mysterious accidents 
that are bound to happen in a war like this. 

Then, on Christmas Day, we had an amusing 
experience. A German airman came and had a 
look at things, including ourselves, and he hovered 
over us, but bolted without even dropping a bomb. 
No doubt he went back and spun a wonderful yarn 
of the way in which he had thrown us into a panic, 
when, as a matter of fact, we only laughed at him. 

On the last day of the year 1914 the Formidable 
was one of the units of a Channel squadron. 

She was an old ship, as warships go, but there was 
a lot of life left in her, especially when bad weather 
had to be met, and she showed that in the Channel 
on New Year's morn, for we had run into tremendous 
seas and a heavy gale of wind was blowing. On the 
last day of the Old Year the Formidable, like the rest 
of the British ships, was taking green water on 
board and she was properly washed. But that was 
a mere nothing — the British Navy is used to it, and 
not to hiding in a canal. 

That was the way the Old Year went out and the 
New Year came in — carrying on. It was a stormy 
ending to a stormy year. Night fell, but there was 
moonlight, and there was nothing to be heard except 
the roaring of the wind and the thudding of the seas 
as the brave old Formidable crashed into them and 
drove through them, going west. 

Go where you will, in any part of the world, you'll 
find that Englishmen don't let the Old Year die 
without some sort of feeling and regret, and so it 
happened that those of us who were not on watch 



162 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

sat in our messes and talked about our homes and 
those we had left behind us, and of the big things 
that had taken place in the dying year. The Old 
Year had truly seen some stormy times, and it was 
going out in a living gale. 

At about twenty minutes past two in the morning 
I went into the stokehole. The ship was, of course, 
rolling and pitching and there were plenty of big 
heaves, but almost as soon as I had got below 1 felt 
a heave which I knew could not be caused by any 
ordinary roll. This heave was immediately followed 
by a distinct tremble over the whole ship, a shivering 
which lasted for about ten seconds. 

A stoker who had been in one of the bunker-holds 
ran out and said that water was coming in, and this 
fact was at once reported to the bridge. It was 
clear that something very serious had happened, but 
what it was there was not any means of knowing just 
then. 

Captain Loxley, who was commanding the For- 
midable, was on the bridge — his little dog was with 
him — and as soon as he realised what had taken 
place he did everything he could to try and save 
his ship and her company. He issued orders calmly 
and deliberately, and shouted, " Steady, men, steady ! 
There's life in the old ship yet ! " 

The water-tight bulkhead doors were closed, and 
a signal was flashed to the other ships of the squadron 
that the Formidable had been struck; but, as every 
one knows by this time, orders were given by the 
Admiralty after the loss of the three cruisers that 
when a ship has been torpedoed other ships are not 
to stand by to give assistance. There was reason 
to believe that the Formidable had been torpedoed, 



HOW THE 'FORMIDABLE' WAS LOST 168 

and accordingly the remaining ships were warned to 
keep off, and they were soon lost to view in the wild 
night. 

After being struck the Formidable became prac- 
tically motionless, and very soon steam gave out and 
she was little more than a huge rolling mass on the 
heaving waters. 

At this stage I visited the engine-room and found 
that the dynamos were just giving out, which meant 
that the ship would be plunged into darkness, and so 
add to the difficulty and danger of the situation. 
But there was nothing like panic on board. Com- 
mander Ballard had told everybody to keep cool, 
and had said that the first thing to do was to get the 
boats out. 

All hands mustered on deck and efforts were at 
once made to launch the large boats, but owing to 
the failure of the steam these attempts failed. The 
ship had been struck on the starboard side, forward, 
and by three o'clock she was listing heavily and 
settling by the bows ; and it was hard to keep a place 
on deck. 

It was very soon after this that a submarine was 
discovered near the ship, and I need not say how 
grieved and furious we were when it was realised 
that it was impossible to train a single gun on the 
craft. 

After tremendous and extraordinary efforts two 
boats were lowered and they pulled away into the 
darkness, crowded. 

In the meantime all the tables, chairs and things 
that would float had been thrown overboard, so that 
the men who found themselves in the water should 
have a chance of clutching at something that would 



164 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

help them to keep up, and in addition to this there 
were the inflated collars which have been provided 
for the crews of warships since the war began. 

Meanwhile the submarine had vanished, but very 
soon another shock was felt, this time on the port 
side of the Formidable, so it seemed as if the craft 
had gone round to make matters even. 

" There goes another at us ! " some .of the men 
shouted, as an explosion tore the decks and killed a 
number of the survivors. 

" The cowards ! " I heard one of my pals growl; 
" aren't they satisfied at finishing us with one 
shot?" 

It was a natural enough thing to say, but war is 
war — and British warships are not a canal fleet ; they 
keep the seas and take their chances, and don't slink 
in hiding. 

The lights of a small vessel had been noticed about 
six hundred yards away, and careful inspection left 
little doubt that she was a fishing-smack. She did 
not move and did not make any answer to the appeals 
for help. Afterwards she slipped away and dis- 
appeared, and I'm pretty certain that she covered 
the movements of the submarine. 

Things, however, were not by any means all bad. 
Four or five miles away more lights were visible, and 
these came nearer at about four o'clock, when we 
found that they belonged to a light cruiser. 

When the cruiser drew near, Captain Loxley, 
thinking only of his duty, and wishful that no other 
ship should share the fate of his own, signalled to 
her to keep away, saying that the battleship had 
been struck and that the cruiser might be struck 
also; but the cruiser swept around the Formidable 



HOW THE * FORMIDABLE' WAS LOST 165 

in wide circles, nobly handled, and showed every 
sign of being ready to lend assistance. 

The effect of the second explosion was to restore 
the battleship to something like an even keel; but 
having been torpedoed on each side she naturally 
sank lower and lower in the water, and it was soon 
clear that she would founder. Indeed, the first 
explosion was so terrible that there was little doubt 
that the ship was doomed, especially in such a sea 
as was then running. It was perishingly cold, with 
snow and sleet, and, to make matters worse, a good 
many of the ship's company were only slightly clad. 

Of course there was not the least intention of 
abandoning the ship until it was perfectly clear that 
she could not keep afloat, and every effort was made 
to save her. There was hope that she might be kept 
going until the day broke, and that then it might 
be possible to get her into a Channel port; but she 
had been too badly damaged for such a hope to be 
realised and she listed terribly. 

As the Formidable had been struck on each side 
water was rushing in very rapidly, through huge 
gaps, but the ship listed more and more. A fine 
attempt was made to train the big guns on the 
beam, and as these represent a very heavy weight, 
no doubt some good effect would have been brought 
about, but again there was not the necessary power 
available, and the effort had to be given up. 

Listing more heavily as the moments passed, the 
battleship at last was almost lying on her side and 
there was no hope of saving her. 

Shortly before this had happened, and when it was 
known that nothing more could be done, the sur- 
vivors mustered on the quarter-deck, and it was very 



166 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

strange to see how coolly they accepted the situation 
— such is discipline and the usage of war, and such 
is the result of the splendid example which was set 
for us by our captain and the officers. 

The captain remained on the bridge, smoking a 
cigarette, and some of the men smoked too, while 
others broke into song. 

We had our life-saving collars on, and there we 
were, waiting for the moment to come when the ship 
would make her last plunge. 

It was at this time that the chaplain, with his hands 
behind his back, walked up and down the deck, 
encouraging the men and comforting them — and all 
the time the most tremendous efforts were being 
made to launch the boats. This was a task that 
was both difficult and dangerous, and of four boats 
that were got out one, a barge, capsized and several 
men were thrown out and drowned. I might say 
here that another barge managed to get away with 
about seventy men, who were picked up by the 
cruiser, while a pinnace, with a good number of 
men, reached Lyme Regis, but that was not till 
more than twenty hours had passed and a score of 
men had perished through exposure. The fourth 
boat, a launch, with about seventy men, was knocked 
about for nearly twelve hours, then they were rescued 
off Berry Head by the Brixham trawler Provident and 
taken into Brixham. 

But I am getting on a bit too fast — I must return 
to the quarter-deck of the sinking battleship. 

There was near me a little fellow who, a few days 
before, when the Formidable had sailed, had said 
good-bye to his mother. 

I have six children of my own, and my heart went 



HOW THE 'FORMIDABLE' WAS LOST 167 

out to the lad, so I took him by the hand and told 
him to carry out my instructions. 

There was a log of wood floating near, and thinking 
that this was a favourable opportunity to try and 
save the youngster, I told him to jump and swim. 

The plucky little chap obeyed, but in that heavy 
sea and the bitter cold he missed his chance, and 
shortly afterwards he was swept away. It was very 
pitiful, but there was nothing for it but to take a 
heavy risk that night. 

I saw that there was not long to wait now until 
the very end came, and so I said to a chum of mine, 
who was standing near me, " Shall we jump now ? " 

" I think I'll wait," he said. 

1 looked around, I saw that there was nothing to 
be gained by waiting, and so I said, " I'm going. 
Good-bye," for by this time it was every man for 
himself. 

" Good-bye, Bill," said my chum, and there was a 
grip of the hand. 

Then I dived into the heavy icy sea and made a 
struggle for it. 

The water was bitterly cold, and in a very curious 
way I suffered intense pain, because the inflated 
collar prevented me from dipping my head to the 
breakers and they caught me full on. 

Very soon after I reached the water I looked back 
and saw the Formidable disappearing. She had made 
a good fight for it, and had kept afloat for a con- 
siderable time after being struck by the first torpedo. 

When the battleship had vanished the sea was 
covered with men who were struggling for their 
lives; but soon the number was lessened, because 
in that bitter weather only the very strongest could 



168 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

live. One by one men disappeared, numbed and 
unconscious, while others, like myself, managed to 
keep afloat and alive. 

I was encouraged by the thought that there was 
a chance of salvation through the cruiser, and I 
kept on swimming towards her as hard as I could. 

For one long dreadful hour I was in that icy sea, 
battling all the time, until I got up to the cruiser 
and managed to make them hear my shouts. 

Lines were thrown overboard in the hope that 
survivors like myself could catch hold of them, and 
I managed to seize one of these and to hang on to 
it with the energy of despair until I was drawn up 
near enough to be gripped by some of the cruiser's 
people — and once they got a grip of us they didn't 
let go. 

I was hauled up on to the cruiser's deck, and a 
good many of my companions were also rescued by 
her, so that with the survivors she carried to port 
and the men who were rescued by the trawler, and in 
other ways, a round two hundred of the crew of the 
Formidable were saved. The rest perished. 

There is no doubt that the loss of life would have 
been far greater if it had not been for the skill and 
bravery of some Brixham fishermen. There hap- 
pened to be in the Channel that night, not far from 
the spot where the battleship sank, a little Brixham 
smack called the Provident, manned by her skipper, 
William Pillar, and three hands. 1 She was under 
storm canvas, and was doing her best to seek shelter 
when the battleship's cutter was seen. The cutter 
was riding to a sea anchor and was in great peril, 

1 The mate of the Provident was lost, in another vessel, about 
a year later, in a heavy Channel gale. 



HOW THE < FORMIDABLE' WAS LOST 169 

while the survivors who were in the little vessel were 
suffering terribly through exposure. 

No sooner did the smack see the cutter than an 
effort was made to save the men ; but in such a sea 
and at night it was the hardest thing imaginable to 
undertake a rescue, and it was not until more than 
two hours had passed and the smack had been 
handled as only a smacksman can handle such a 
eraft, that a line was made fast between the cutter 
and the smack and the men were got on board, after 
a long struggle. They were all transferred to the 
Provident by about one o'clock in the afternoon of 
New Year's Day, and they were landed at Brixham, 
where they were most generously treated, and clothes 
and drink and food were given to them. At other 
places on the coast of the Channel other survivors 
were landed, and very soon we were able to leave 
for our homes for a little spell of rest. 

It is well to remember the very fine life-saving 
work that was done by fishermen when the Formidable 
was lost, just as it was done by fishermen in the 
North Sea when the three cruisers were torpedoed. 
In their life-saving work at the loss of the Formidable, 
deep-sea fishermen added one more to the many 
splendid things they have done for the Navy since 
the war began. 

One result of the failure of the steam was that 
the wireless could not be worked, so that not much 
could be done with the sending out of calls; but 
there was the Morse to fall back on, and so into the 
night the lamp signals were flashed, warning the 
other ships of what had happened and telling them 
to keep clear. They had to obey, having no option 
in the matter, and it must have been hard for them 



170 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

to leave the old ship to her fate, though I daresay 
they were comforted by the knowledge that her 
company were sure to meet their end like good 
Englishmen. 

The Morse signals were understood by the other 
warships, but it seems that there were one or two 
other fishing vessels about which would most surely 
have given help if they had realised what had 
happened and had understood the nature of the 
signals. The Provident was packed, having only a 
very small cabin and her hold and fish-room, but 
once on board of her the survivors were safe, though 
as far as room and comfort went, we who were 
saved by the cruiser were a good deal better off. 

I do not want to dwell on the finish of the battle- 
ship, and the terrible hour or so I spent in the icy 
cold of the Channel seas in the very heart of winter. 
The disaster was so sudden and tremendous that it 
had a numbing effect on you, and many a poor 
fellow died through exposure, either in the water or 
in the boats, which were constantly swept by the 
freezing seas, so that there was little difference 
between being in the boats and in the water. 

Captain Loxley went down with his ship, you 
might almost say as a matter of course, his first and 
last thought being for the safety of his people. Many 
of the officers went with him, and as for those who 
were saved, they were all, except one or two who had 
been ordered to the boats to take charge of them, 
rescued from the seas into which they had plunged 
or had been thrown to take their chance just like 
the men. 



CHAPTER XIII 

a trooper's tale 

[It has been said that in this war cavalry have ceased to 
exist. As mounted men their opportunities have undoubtedly 
been very limited ; but in other ways they have done much 
to maintain their ancient reputation. In the earlier days of 
the fierce attempt of the Germans to break through the Allied 
Armies and get to Calais the teller of this tale — Trooper Notley, 
of the* 5th Dragoon Guards — was engaged and was finally 
wounded and invalided home.] 

There are a good many men who, like myself, were 
at Mons, the Marne and the Aisne, and then went 
into the Fight for the Coast, and I think they would 
all tell the same story — that that tremendous battle 
was fifty times worse than the Aisne. 

The Aisne was very bad; but even there, though 
the Germans fought desperately to prevent them- 
selves from being driven back and turned away from 
Paris, their efforts were not to be compared with the 
determination they showed in their attacks upon the 
troops who barred their way to Calais. 

The Germans were mad in their resolve to hack 
their way through to Paris; but they were madder 
to break through and get to the coast, so that they 
could get within sight of hated England. They tried 
all they knew ; even as I talk they are trying as hard 
as ever, but I'm as sure that they won't succeed as 
I am that to-morrow will come. 

People have heard and read a lot about the fighting 

171 



172 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

at Ypres and Messines, and it is of this part of the 
battle that I am going to talk, because it was at 
these places that the 5th Dragoon Guards shared in 
a great deal of furious fighting. 

We had had a long innings at the Aisne, then our 
brigade moved on to the Ypres region, which we 
reached after being fourteen days in the saddle. We 
made a short break at Amiens, where it was thought 
that we might have to help the French; but before 
long reinforcements arrived for them and we went 
on our road to the north, approaching Ypres as the 
advanced guard of a brigade. 

It had been hard going on the march, and there 
was plenty of excitement with it, even before we got 
into the real fight for the coast. There were prowling 
Uhlans everywhere, and nothing would have pleased 
us better than to get at them in a thundering charge ; 
but they didn't give us the chance, they are not 
keen on that sort of thing, and kept in scattered 
bodies. But at one point quite a little surprise had 
been prepared for us by about three hundred Uhlans. 

We were marching along when we discovered that 
these Uhlans had taken up a position commanding 
a road, and they had planted a Maxim, so that they 
could give us a warm welcome. They soon discovered 
that we were not going to be caught napping. Instead 
of keeping to the road we were promptly ordered to 
leave it and to take to a field running alongside. We 
made for the Uhlans as fast as we could go, but 
they did not stop to finish the welcome ; they vanished, 
and I was unable to see the end of them ; but it seems 
that they were completely surrounded and gathered 
in by some of our infantry. 

This was the sort of small affair that was constantly 




Bkl 



A TROOPER'S TALE 173 

happening, but it was a trifle compared with the real 
big righting around Ypres. The cannonade was 
terrific, and the everlasting firing made it seem as 
though nothing existed on earth but the thundering 
of big guns and the screeching and bursting of shells 
all around. 

In and around Ypres, the Allies had pushed far 
into the enemy's line, and the Germans were con- 
centrating all their men and metal to crumple us up. 
They strained every nerve and made the most dread- 
ful sacrifices to carry out the Kaiser's command to 
break through; but though they hurled themselves 
to certain death, in thousands, they were driven 
back. 

Messines, a village quite near to Ypres, came 
within the zone of this furious attack, and it was 
at Messines that most of the brigade, including my 
own squadron, was posted. 

When we got to the village, which we reached by 
way of the fields — rough going, but safer than the 
roads — my squadron was ordered to hold the place 
by the main road, and another squadron went about 
nine hundred yards up the road and spent the night 
in digging trenches, which were occupied by the 
whole regiment on the following morning. 

As we moved into the trenches we were under 
incessant fire, and we were fired on all the time we 
were in them. 

For twelve days and twelve nights we held fast 
to our trenches, against the onslaughts of forces that 
were certainly five times as great as our own — and, 
in spite of their countless losses, the proportion of 
the Germans was never less than that. 

We seemed to have nothing but shell fire and night 



174 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

attacks, and to get anything like decent rest under 
such conditions was impossible. 

There was a curious sameness in this life in the 
trenches. We had no chance, as we had at the 
Aisne, of digging ourselves in, because the lie of the 
land was against us. At the Aisne our positions 
were very strong and we could afford to smile at the 
efforts of the Germans to dig us out; but it was a 
very different matter in country which is as flat as 
a floor. There was nothing impregnable in our 
little artificial gullies, and in this absence of help 
from Nature we had to keep our wits about us to 
escape the shrapnel and to prevent the nightly visits 
of our German neighbours. 

We were a mixed lot at Messines. Our line con- 
sisted of the Connaught Rangers, the Somersets, 
Bengal Lancers and some Ghurkas — a mere handful 
compared with the hosts of Germans that were flung 
against us, with an enormous number of guns. The 
more troops they sent the more we shot. 

Day after day this fighting went on, the German 
attacks getting fiercer every day. Nightfall was the 
time when they would make particularly stubborn 
attempts to drive us out. They would leave their 
own trenches and advance two or three hundred 
yards at a time, then throw themselves flat on the 
ground before beginning the next stage. We had 
them under observation all the time, but did not 
let a sound reach them ; in fact, we lured them on 
by seeming not to be there. 

On they came, till they were something like fifty 
yards away, then we got the order for rapid fire, and 
let drive into the ranks that it was not possible to 
miss. In this manner great numbers of Germans 



A TROOPER'S TALE 175 

were destroyed; we punished them terribly, for our 
rapid fire was certain destruction for their front 
ranks. 

It is not always clear to people, I find, that trenches 
may be constructed according to the needs of the 
moment, at all sorts of odd corners and angles. 
The idea seemed to be that the Germans dug them- 
selves in along a perfectly straight line, while we 
dug ourselves in along a parallel line a few hundred 
yards away. In our position by Messines the trenches 
were splayed out, so to speak, some of them making 
an angle of ninety degrees or so with each other. 
We were so entrenched that we were inviting the 
Germans to step into a hollow square, or rather to 
form the fourth side of it, which with their heaps of 
dead and wounded they occasionally did. Of course 
the positions varied from hour to hour, both in 
guarding against attempts to enfilade us and in 
avoiding cross-fire between units of our own forces. 

One night a supreme effort was made by the 
Germans. The Indians had relieved us that very 
morning, and one troop of our men had got into a 
barn and cut loopholes in the walls, while another 
troop had taken up a position at a barricade made up 
of old wagons and sacks of earth. 

At about three o'clock in the morning we suddenly 
heard the sound of a bugle, and presently the Germans 
set up a hullabaloo and fairly hurled themselves at 
our trenches. They came in such strong numbers 
that the Indians, who had been dealing out death 
half the night, were overweighted by the enemy, who 
got round their flank and attacked them in the rear. 

A Maxim gun section of the 11th Hussars was 
hurried down, and from the window of one of the 



176 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

buildings it blazed away at the Germans and covered 
the retirement of the Indians. The way in which the 
Maxims have been handled in the war has been a 
revelation to a lot of people. These handy weapons 
have been got into upstairs and downstairs rooms and 
even into the tops of trees, and they have caused 
terrific havoc in the Germans' solid ranks. 

That night affair was desperate; but it seemed as 
if nothing could stop the mad onrush of the Germans, 
and at last there was nothing for it but to give way, 
and so we received orders to evacuate the barn. 

Near this particular point the road forks, and a 
couple of men were left to fire up the right-hand 
road and two to fire up the road on the left, and 
for the time being we were effectually covered. 

It was at this stage that there arose the chance 
for a Territorial regiment to come into action for 
the first time. The Territorials to win this great 
distinction were the London Scottish. 

The Scottish had been ordered up to relieve the 
pressure, and they came on quickly and in gallant 
style and took up a position at one end of the barn, 
while the Highland Light Infantry, the brave old 
71st, took up a position at the other, and between 
them the two carried the barn with a bayonet charge 
and killed, captured or drove away the Germans. 

The Scottish had their baptism of blood in proper 
good style, with a very strange preparation in the 
shape of a cunning German trick. 

Not far from the Scottish was a windmill which 
had had three of its sails blown away or destroyed, 
leaving only the fourth sail, and that looked as if 
it had been cut clean in half. It was noticed that 
this crippled sail was working about in the most 



A TROOPER'S TALE 177 

astonishing fashion, and those who saw it were 
puzzled to account for the movements; but it was 
soon discovered that there was a German spy hidden 
in the mill, and that he was moving the sail to indicate 
the position of the Scottish, and so bring the German 
gun-fire to bear on them. When the dodge had been 
discovered and the signaller settled the Scottish got 
their own back. 

By this time I was blazing away from a barricade 
in an old covered yard, and there was a straggling 
fire going on all around; but it was clear that we 
should want reinforcements if we were to hold our 
own and save Messines. 

At last we heard shouts, and I cannot tell you 
what it meant to us when we knew that the shouts 
came from our own fellows, and that three battalions 
of infantry had hurried up and got into action and 
given the Germans more than they could comfortably 
carry. 

It was at this moment of the saving of Messines 
that I was struck by a shrapnel bullet and had to 
leave the fighting-line and come home, with the fight 
for the coast going on. I had been in it right from 
the start and had got used to the awful business, 
even to the " coal-boxes," which the Germans were 
everlastingly firing. They made a particular target 
of the church, and for nine days bombarded it before 
they set the building on fire. 

One of the strangest things about a shell is that 
you never know what it is going to do, and some of 
the " coal-boxes " acted like freaks. 

During this bombardment of the church I watched 
one of the shells come, and expected that it would 
do something smashing, for it hit the building full 

N 



178 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

in the middle of one of the main walls. I looked for 
the wall to be shattered, but the shell never shifted 
a brick or a bit of mortar; it simply burst in on 
itself, so to speak, and did no damage to anything 
except itself, and in the end the Germans got a fire 
going by sending a much smaller shell, something 
like a fifteen-pounder. 

In a general way of speaking, however, these 
" coal-boxes " did some terrible mischief when they 
really exploded, and no living thing within their 
reach had a chance of escaping. Horses, guns, men, 
wagons, everything that came within the area of 
explosions was shattered or wiped out. Often enough 
men who were killed by the explosions were found 
in the holes, so that the shell which had destroyed 
them had also scooped out their grave. 

There were all sorts of side issues to the actual 
fighting. We billeted in every kind of building, some 
of them very strange; but I think the strangest of 
all was a cow-house. This does not sound promising ; 
but that cow-house was one of the finest places I 
ever slept in. 

The farm itself was beautiful, and everything about 
it was on the latest and best scale, so that the cow- 
house was lighted by electricity, and the fittings were 
in keeping with the illumination. I had a very 
comfortable stretch there, and it would not have 
been possible for us to be better looked after. The 
proprietor had had notice of our coming and had 
made every preparation for us, and we were only 
too grateful for the many good things he freely gave 
away. We had the same sort of kindness shown to 
us by the French wherever we came into contact 
with them. 



A TROOPER'S TALE 179 

It may seem somewhat odd that a cavalryman in 
talking of the war should dwell so much on the 
trench work and the shell-fire; but in this war a 
great deal of the work of the cavalry has been dis- 
mounted, and practically the same as the infantry, 
and there has not been the chance that every cavalry- 
man longs for to get to close grips with the enemy's 
mounted forces. 

We had heard so much about the Uhlans that we 
expected to have some stirring times with them ; but 
these big encounters did not come off, and one great 
thing we learned about the Uhlans was their skill 
in avoiding us. We saw them everywhere, but in 
scattered bodies, and they never gave us a chance 
of getting at them in the mass. Whenever we formed 
up in anything like force they melted away; but 
one fine day we had better luck — we came across 
them when they were in fair numbers, and before 
they could perform their vanishing trick we had got 
at them. At the end we found that we had punished 
them pretty heavily, for we broke up seven hundred 
lances which we had captured from them. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 

[There is a peculiar interest in any record of experiences 
which is made while they are being undergone. Imperfect 
and incomplete though they may be, yet they are of special 
value because of their reliability. This is particularly the 
case with some of the diaries which have been kept while 
the writers were on active service; and extracts from such 
a one form this story. The author is Private Charles Hills, 
2nd Battalion Australian Infantry. His share in the opera- 
tions he describes was necessarily brief, for he was dangerously 
wounded, and was partially blinded and invalided to England, 
prior to returning to Australia. Just before leaving England 
he was examined by a Medical Board, and it was then found 
that he was quite blind.] 

Lemnos, May 3rd, 1915. 
We arrived at Lemnos on the evening of the 1st of May. 
The place itself is, so far as we can see, just a small 
island, amongst a lot of other islands, and is evidently 
a meeting-place for a heterogeneous collection of 
shipping — cruisers, colliers and cattle-boats. Trad- 
ing, trawling and touting seem to be the several 
achievements of this mass. We are lying just 
inside . . . the entrance of the harbour. All night the 
searchlights play across. Quite a little storm was 
caused by a small torpedo-boat " arresting " a collier 
with two shots from her biggest gun. Effective argu- 
ment it proved. It seems she had not got her sailing 
papers in order. The defect was remedied. 

It pleases the boys to see the neatness and quickness 

180 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 181 

with which the English tars handle their craft, after 
the slipshod methods of Chinamen and Lascars. 

This is just a small island of, roughly speaking, 
45,000 inhabitants, solely Greeks. The most out- 
rageous street I ever struck — 5d. for a copy of a 
London daily halfpenny. The least thing seems to be 
five piastres. 

May Uh. 
Turned terribly cold last night. Sent us all below 
to fetch our overcoats. Some of the wounded are 
telling us terrible tales of maltreatment by Turks of 
prisoners they take. Evidently we are up against 
a lot of barbarians. We heard from the front two 
days ago that the Australians' heavy losses were 
entirely due to the fact that they charged full speed 
for a mile and were not content with that, but they 
must needs go and chase the Turks for five miles. 
Here they found the position untenable and had to 
retreat. During this retreat the Turks poured an 
enfilading fire into them and caused such heavy 
losses. The Tommy Terriers got just as far and 
without the enormous loss of life. Some of our fellows 
who left us at Abbasia suffered amongst the rest : one 
was killed and several injured more or less. No 
doubt their example should be to our profit. 

May 5th. 
We have set sail at last, and every one has gone 
mad. Of course our destination is unknown. Am- 
munition is being served out, and extra guards set 
for torpedo-boats and any hostile craft. The weather 
is bitterly cold — a vast change from New South 
Wales. At present steering S.S.W., G^p.m. 



182 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

8 a.m., May 6th. 
Our move proved to be a very short one, and ended 
abruptly at about 10 p.m. As soon as we arrived we 
could hear distinctly the rolling of the guns, and 
sometimes see the flash of the shells bursting. When 
morning came we were better able to see where we had 
got to. The first thing I noticed was the cold. It 
was " some." The next was the number of boats. 
Besides our own we counted seventy-six, warships 
included. On looking round we seemed to be in the 
Dardanelles itself, but a visit to the map disproved 
this theory. It seems to me as though we are in the 
Gulf of Saros, and the narrow spit of land forming the 
left bank of the Dardanelles was on our right front. 
Over this, it seemed that the reports were from the 
guns of warships lying in the Dardanelles itself, 
bombarding the forts and answering the Turkish 
artillery in the hills. 

We can plainly see the movements of the troops on 
the hills in front of us with the naked eye, although 
the distance must be some miles. The air is very 
clear. . . . 

The warships look positively wicked as they glide 
through the water. There are quite a number of 
them here. One came up quite close to us this 
morning. We could see the paint of the guns, no 
doubt used to disguise them and bewilder any air- 
craft that may be hovering about over them. . . , 

The war is amongst us in real earnest. To-day we 
have been treated to what must be one of the most 
striking sights to imagine. Upwards of a dozen 
warships have been bombarding the coast-line. It 
seems as though we were just outside the range of the 
enemy's guns, and through it being such a bright day 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 183 

we are able to see everything, and to watch the 
marking of the naval gunners and the effect of their 
shots. Over fifty transports are above the line of fire, 
and we are to land under the guns of the battleships. 
Things are just beginning to get exciting. Long rows 
of lights are visible. I can only conclude that that 
is the enemy's rifle-fire. 

May 7th. 
Well, we have arrived and landed, and contrary 
to expectations we have marched straight into the 
trenches. The Turks gave us a great reception, and 
shelled even the boats we were landing in. 

11 p.m., May 8th. 

We are now drafted to our respective battalions. 
Have spent our first day in the trenches. There was 
quite a gathering of the clans when we joined up, and 
many old mates were overjoyed to see their friends 
unhurt. Since morning we have been treated to a 
consistent dispute of artillery and perpetually shelled 
with shrapnel and lyddite. The shrapnel is an 
awfully destructive projectile. 

The Turks seem to be filling up their shells with 
any old rubbish — screws, nails, and even old bolts 
came in a shell. The worst of it is the occasional 
sniper in the surrounding bush. He has several 
scores to his credit. We have one good shot looking 
for him, and if he only gets a look at him he'll have 
to close his account quickly. The battalion has been 
very severely handled, and has lost, roughly speaking, 
about half its strength. Officers have suffered far 
heavier in proportion to their men, a brigadier, 
colonel, two majors and sundry smaller fry have been 
put out of mess. 



184 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

I can go no further, as my head is fairly splitting 
with the noise of shrapnel, lyddite, and the continual 
lying down doggo in a dug-out. 

3 p.m., Sunday. 

Unfortunately Turks don't observe the Sabbath, 
and to-day has been as busy as any other day. To 
add to my splitting headache last night, I had 
scarcely any sleep at all for the third night in suc- 
cession — and the first night in the trenches, with one 
hour out of three on the look-out. The consequence 
is a man feels thoroughly washed out. The Turks 
made one rush against us last night at about 2 a.m., 
and our boys had all to stand up with fully loaded 
rifles and bayonets fixed. After a few sharp rounds 
of rapid fire, however, they thought better of it, and 
retired and sniped the rest of the night. 

The strain of your first watch was more intense 
than I thought anything could be, and had me fairly 
mazed for a time. However, I improved and finished 
up fairly well. This morning, after breakfast, Captain 
Linklater came along and detailed me for observa- 
tion work at the right hand of Lewis. Armed with 
a periscope, I stationed myself at one of the observa- 
tion-places, and became a target for all the snipers 
in the Turkish army, I thought. The place was well 
sandbagged and quite bullet-proof from front and 
flank, and so I enjoyed a thorough survey of the 
surrounding country and benefited much thereby. . . . 

8 a.m., May 10th. 
This morning we have another job in digging a 
small circular pit ten feet in diameter, to accommodate 
about four men. . . . The lieutenant in charge says 
it is for a guard-room. . . . 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 185 

Barring a little more confidence and a little more 
dirt personally the position is unchanged. I am 
certainly not as nervous as I was at the beginning, 
although I have not been in a charge yet. 

We've had two Indian Mountain Batteries join 
us, and a great acquisition they are, too. Mule- 
drawn, they negotiate these hills as easily as the others 
do the open roads, and they are more accustomed to 
warfare than the Australian boys are. The Turks 
won't reply to them at all. . . . 

4 p.m., May llth. 

Our position is unchanged, as far as I can make 
out. . . . Our much-promised " rest " consisted of 
navvying a roadway for the artillery, to get one of 
their big guns up a hill in position. . . . 

The weather has been terrible — a real English 
October day; squally thundershowers and as cold 
as a March wind, added to which I caught a severe 
chill last night, and you will see that I am not as 
happy as I could be. I have no doubt there are some 
worse off than I, but this is a chronicle of my experi- 
ences. Despite the fact that I am wearing heavy 
khaki flannel tunic, and worsted sweater, and flannel 
shirt, and another heavy overcoat, I am continually 
in a shiver. I am anxiously awaiting further symptoms 
to decide whether it is my old friend pneumonia 
turned up again. The food (iron rations), corned 
beef and biscuits and tea, and sometimes a little jam, 
is not conducive to mirth-producing. In the event 
of it being pneumonia I suppose it is hospital for me. 
Several have gone back already with it. . . . 

The exploding bullets are largely being used, and 
in consequence the wounds are much more serious. 



186 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

One of our poor chaps got shot through with one of 
them, which must have exploded as it reached him. 
Fifteen pieces of lead were found in his head. Quite 
dead, of course. 

2 p.m., May 12th. 

We have spent a quiet morning, after a rotten night. 
Sent out at 5 p.m. to dig and shape a trench for an 
artillery pit. We started off all right and presently 
it began to rain — quite an easy rain, but so wet and 
cold. We had no blankets with us, and at 10 p.m. 
there came a halt for sandbags to be fetched. On 
applying to the artillery officer in charge he considered 
they were in too dangerous a position to be fetched 
just then, so we camped in the rain, with no protection 
other than our overcoats. We waited and waited. 
No bags came along, and so we slept until four. . . . 

This morning we got orders to lie close, as the 
battery and battleships were going to do a bit of 
shelling in conjunction. My cold is not changing 
much, and the cold of last night would not tend to 
improve matters at all. . . . 

We heard a great cheering on the landing-stage 
this morning. Two battalions of Tommies and the 
3rd Brigade, 6000 or so, all told, reinforcing our boys. 
Probably we shall get more sleep now. I have not 
washed since last Thursday, six days now not shaven. 
Some of them have not washed for a fortnight. If you 
get down to the beach you are under shot and shell 
the same as anywhere else, so you have a dry rub. 

May \Zth. 
To-day we are back in the trenches in a different 
space. The Lieutenant-Colonel had us out and 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 187 

inspected us in full equipment. He complimented 
us on our fine showing, and also told us that the 2nd 
Brigade had distinguished itself down the coast for this 
sortie. The news came from him that Sydney had 
had high holiday over the display of their men. One 
town, Armidale, the home of Colonel Braund, had col- 
lected £365 10s. 6d. for the benefit of the battalion 
when we arrived at a decent permanent camp. Saw 
many of the old boys to-day, and looking well at that. 

May lUh. 
One of our corporals had a remarkable escape from 
a shrapnel this morning. He and another man were 
sitting outside the orderly-room awaiting the result 
of a conference, and they both saw the shell coming. 
Private Beech moved out of the way, and the corporal 
turned over and got out of the way just in the nick 
of time. The shell touched his pants and tore them 
— another few inches and he would have been blown 
to pieces. . . . 

May 15th. 

Quite a quiet night and comparatively still. Had 
an encouraging sight. About a mile or so away we 
could see our warships shelling flying troops — and a 
large body of them, too. Mr. Lowe, our P.C., in- 
formed us that it was the main body of the Turks 
retreating before the allied French, English, and 
Australian troops. We could see them with the 
naked eye from one of our shelter-trenches on the 
hills. 

The warships' gunnery was marvellously accurate, 
and shell after shell fell in the ranks of the enemy. 
There is a large estimated loss amongst the Turks. . . . 



188 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

One of the Turkish officers from a neighbouring 
fort having disagreed with some German superiors, 
was to have been shot at dawn. In the night he 
escaped and gave himself up to the Australians 
here. . . . 

The view here is magnificent, but to be appreciated 
one has to risk one's neck and get up at four o'clock, 
when things are quiet and only a few snipers about. . . . 

May \§th. 

The facts and results of the Light Horsemen's 
charge came out this morning. It seems that some- 
where over one hundred went out against the machine- 
gun on our left front. It seems ridiculous to send out 
a hundred men on a charge against an enemy well 
entrenched. Anyway, they got the gun, and lost 
seventeen killed and sixty or so wounded and missing. 
It was a victory, as a general result, but costly. 

To-day our platoon commander, Lieutenant Lowe, 
arrived with the telegraphic compliments showered 
on us by our enthusiastic population. They could 
not have cheered so hard if they had been as dry as 
we were. 

Water is so scarce that we are allowed only one 
pint every twenty-four hours. Out of that we have 
to wash, shave, and provide the means of assuaging 
a bully-beef thirst. The consequence is I have had 
about one wash in about two fingers of water since 
I landed, just ten days ago. . . . 

Our sniping friends have suffered severely, one 
man, a kangaroo shooter, catching four, three of 
them in half an hour. They fetch him along the line 
now when they happen to spot one. 

The tinstuff is getting monotonous, and I have 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 189 

broken a tooth on those infernal biscuits. Apart 

from that we have not had much to complain about. 

The weather is getting hot in the day and not quite 

so cool at night, and ever so much more comfortable. 

May ISth. 
Snakes have made their appearance, though they 
are small and nervous compared with the Australian 
specimen. Water is horrible, but, thank God, the 
weather is cooler, except just at midday, and does 
not entail a great thirst. Our rations make up for 
that. Boiled bacon has been added to the menu 
and is somewhat salt, and that, added to the dryness 
of our biscuit, and your ration of one pint per day, 

is small. In the tucker respect we are much 

better off than our opponents, who seem to be ill fed, 
ill clad, and, as usual, ill paid. . . . The drawback is 
washing. . . . 

May 19th. 
Official reports to hand announce that Gallipoli 
is in ruins, owing to a very severe bombardment from 
the guns of Lizzie and a few of her ilk. There is 
absolutely no room for argument about Lizzie being 
effective. She is a whole army and navy in herself. 
At the outbreak of hostilities here the authorities were 
much troubled by the enemy having an armoured 
train armed with heavy guns, and of course ex- 
tremely mobile. After it had done much damage 
Lizzie got her eye on it, and three shots put paid to 
its account. Their gunnery is little short of marvel- 
lous. The boys here are astounded because she puts 
her shells right over the strip of land we are on, and 
drops them on some unsuspecting vessel in the Narrows, 



190 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

seven or eight miles away. To get the line of fire 
and sight it is necessary to use aircraft. We have 
the great Samson himself here, squinting in the air 
for us, and are splendidly served in this respect. The 
Turks gave him a great reception last night, and 
every piece of gunnery was turned in his direction. 
Fortunately he was unhurt, being miles off range. 

I drew my first issue of tobacco and cigarettes 
to-day — two packets of cigarettes and 2oz. of tobacco 
and a box of fifteen matches ! Very welcome to a 
smoker, and I have no doubt they will secure many 
blessings in the future. . . . 

May 20th. 

Contrary to expectation the Turks came again, 
and in large lumps, too. They gave us a perfect 
fusillade at tea-time last night — rifles, machine-guns, 
and artillery kept it up till dark. Then we being in 
the second line of defence (or supports), went to bed. 
About twelve o'clock Wednesday they started again, 
accompanied by bombs and machine-guns and rifles. 
They fairly lighted the night up, and as for row — 
Bedlam let loose was not in it. 

The bombs gave us a bad moment or two. They 
did not kill any one, but threw up such clouds of 
dust that we were literally blinded; and then the 
main attack started at about 2 a.m. on the right and 
developed all along the row of trenches. A lull 
occurred till about 3 a.m. 

We stood to arms, and then it really began. 

First they chanted their war-cry and called on 
Allah and blew on a little tin trumpet. It sounded 
terribly weird at that time of the morning — it was 
pitch dark. We could only stand at our loopholes 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 191 

and strain our eyes to peer into nothingness. Firing 
continued in a desultory manner. All of a sudden 
their front wing was in the first line of trenches, 
which were about eighty yards in front of ours. 

Half blinded by the dust and choked by the gas, 
the boys stuck to it like Britons, and sometimes staved 
the Turks off. Three Turks did manage to get in 
B Company's line, but they did not manage to get 
out again. By this time we had got our bearings, 
and then the boys settled down to steady firing. 
Never heard such a noise. I was strained to the 
utmost pitch of excitement. Times again they 
managed to get up to the earthworks, but failed to 
get into the line. 

The German officers hooted them on and beat 
them with their swords; but after the terrible hail 
of shot one could not be surprised at their jibbing. 
Two or three officers were shot, with their hard 
black helmets, proving beyond doubt their nation- 
ality. . . . 

Last night was a mixture of prayers and curses. 
Some of the boys yell for Turks to come on — they 
had some " back at work " shot for them. 

The action was continued all day. Casualties 
were few, owing to excellent cover. . . . 

5 a.m., May 21st 

All night long we were waiting for them to come 
again, but the lesson had been too severe. All day 
yesterday they sniped and got a few, amongst them 
our special shot. ... I have got the knack of keeping 
awake all night. 



192 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

They have landed some 6-inch howitzers from the 
naval boats, and these are manned by marines. 
Firing lyddite, and manned by experts, they gave 
the Turks the time of their lives. The Turkish 
artillery is outclassed by them. Their big guns on 
the forts by the shore have a moving platform and 
consequently were hard to find; however, the boats 
got wind of where they were, and they started to 
shell our fellows last night at dusk. The tars saw 
their flash and fired three shells. Have heard 
nothing of them since, so suppose they hit some- 
thing. . . . 

Last night passed away uneventfully. Just a 
little rain of bullets now and then. Also the enemy 
fired a new kind of shell, believed to be melinite, 
which stifles a man to death and does not hit one at 
all. Nice respectable death, after the manner of 
some deaths ! 

A rain set in early this morning and brought 
attendant miseries with it, mud and dampness and 
general cussedness of every one concerned. 

The beggars had the cheek to come over yesterday 
and demand that we surrendered. After such a 
pommelling as we gave them two days ago this is 
colossal. I think they just wanted to spy out a bit 
more of the defences. 

Sunday, May 2Zrd. 

There is a furious bombardment going on out in 
the harbour. The warships are all standing in close 
and tackling the last of the main Turkish forts and 
strongholds in the Dardanelles. . . . 

Quite a minor excitement was caused by the arrival 
of some submarines, supposed to be the pair that 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 193 

slipped by Gibraltar some days ago. The fact that first 
drew our attention to them was the small or mosquito 
craft which were running all round in circles, and the 
bigger vessels were all on the move. Nothing was 
heard as to whether they were captured or sighted 
again. I suppose the idea was to keep a good look 
out and also to provide a much more difficult mark 
than if they were standing still. 

I had a night's sleep last night, the first undisturbed 
since we landed sixteen days ago. I feel splendid this 
morning, Sunday — not much like our usual one, 
though. I absolutely pine for St. John's, Wagga 
Wagga, for their singing and for one hour of Canon 
Joe Pike. Tommy Thornber is with me in this 
respect. The most profitable hours of my life were 
undoubtedly spent there. . . . 

The Turks around us are very quiet to-day. It 
is Sunday, so they ought to be. 

Empire Day, May 2Uh. 

Peculiar thing — the long-expected armistice ar- 
rived to-day, instead of yesterday. ... I, being of 
fair size, was one of the assorted few who were to 
form the burial party. We set out at 8 a.m., and 
started carting the Turks to their own lines and 
handing them over to their friends. To attempt to 
describe the condition of the bodies, some of them 
having lain out in the sun for twelve or fourteen days, 
some of them since they landed a month ago, would be 
futile. . . . 

A line of flags was drawn equidistant from both 
lines, and each party of men kept between their line 
and the centre line of flags. As this line of flags was 
made up by one Turk and one Australian alternatively, 



194 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

we had a good view of live Turks. In point of physique 
they are not our superiors, as I imagined, but of a 
stock top-heavy — all-chest-and-no-legs sort of build ; 
dark almost to blackness, with such a variety of 
casts of feature that they cannot be said to possess a 
distinctive one. 

The officers are undoubtedly German — that is, the 
principal ; and a scowling, evil-looking lot they are, 
though some of them attempted to ingratiate them- 
selves with our boys by offering cigarettes and so on. 
The body-carting finished about one o'clock, and 
such work as exchanging . . . equipment has been 
going on. 

May 25th. 

The submarine that was reported three days ago 
got in her work on the Triumph this morning at 
about 12.30, and she sank in seven minutes. The 
loss has thrown quite a gloom over the trenches here 
in camp. Our boys could see the survivors struggling 
in the water and saw the old ship sink, and could 
not raise a hand to help them in their trouble. As a 
loss to the Navy it was not a big one, as she was one 
of the older class of vessel, and from what I can gather 
we did not lose many of the crew. . . . 

I snatched about an hour's sleep this morning, or 
I should have seen the disaster to the Triumph. . . . 

May 2Qth. 
The number of men lost was only fifteen in the sink- 
ing of the warship yesterday. . . . Our socks are stuck 
to our feet, and the blend of the smell of our socks, 
chloride of lime, and dead Turks is a subject for a 
connoisseur. . . . 



A DIARIST UNDER FIRE 195 

May 21th. 
To-day we have had our welcome spell. Never 
before did men stretch out to enjoy sleep in such 
circumstances. Our resting trenches are about half 
a mile away from the firing-line, and the only danger 
is from spent bullets, whizzing by too high to hit the 
trenches, and just beginning to drop as they get to us. 
After the first line that is easy. 



CHAPTER XV 

A STRETCHER-BEAKER AT LOOS 

[Continuing the Allied advance in France, the British forces 
on September 25th, 1915, captured the western outskirts of 
Hulloch and the village of Loos, and secured an advantage 
near Hooge. At the same time the French took Souchez 
and the rest of the region known as the " Labyrinth," and 
broke through the German line in Champagne. The fighting 
at this period was exceptionally severe, and was acknowledged 
by the bestowal of many honours, amongst them the award 
of the Distinguished Conduct Medal to Private Harold 
Edwards, 1st Battalion South Staffordshire Regiment, whose 
story this is. In the official description of the award to Private 
Edwards, " for conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty," it 
was stated that " he gave a fine exhibition of the highest 
courage and disregard of personal danger."] 

It was at a place called Hulloch that we battled it 
out — but it was Loos, all the same. All my fighting 
and what I saw of it was done in the Loos district. 
Our division was at Fromelles, Aubers, Givenchy and 
Festubert, and a lot of minor events, and I came 
through these engagements very luckily. Our first 
battle, however, was Neuve Chapelle, though we did 
not do any actual fighting there. We were in reserve ; 
but from what I learned later this was worse than the 
fighting-line, because we seemed to get all the shell 
fire. It was not till the battle of Loos came along 
that I was unlucky and got " clicked." 

I wanted to be a soldier, and the very day we de- 
clared war on Germany I enlisted in the South Staf- 
fordshire Regiment, the old 38th. I was trained hard 

196 



A STRETCHER-BEARER AT LOOS 197 

for a few months; but that was easy work, because 
I had been employed in a Staffordshire forge. Then, 
before the Christmas of 1914 I was sent to France, and 
got a spell of trench work until March, when, on the 
10th, the British captured Neuve Chapelle. 

It is not easy to say what stands out most clearly 
in my mind of those early operations, because what 
I chiefly remember is Loos ; but I know that we were 
terribly troubled in the trenches and round about 
them by rats. These horrible things swarmed — 
they breed like rabbits, or worse — and they went for 
anything that was going. They were huge, fierce 
brutes, and I know of more than one case of a sentry 
on a lonely post who in the night-time got a bad scare 
because he thought the Germans were on him, when 
as a matter of fact it was nothing worse than an 
enormous rat which was out foraging and made a 
jump at his face. 

More than six months passed between the battle of 
Neuve Chapelle and the battle of Loos. Of course 
an ordinary soldier doesn't know much of what is 
happening, and he doesn't pretend to — he has his 
own business to mind ; but we knew for several days 
ahead that something was coming off, judging by the 
amount of stuff that went up. What do I mean 
by stuff ? Well, the shells, principally. They were 
preparing the way, and were smashing up the whole 
of the countryside. It was really terrible to see 
what havoc was done by the German shells at 
Vermelles — streets were blown to bits, churches and 
houses were just made into rubbish heaps, and as 
for men, especially Germans, they didn't count. It 
isn't easy to make anybody understand what hap- 
pened ; but perhaps the easiest way is to imagine your 



198 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

own house and street and the country near it turned 
from a smiling, prosperous place into a heap of 
dreary and desolate ruins. 

In that battle of Loos we were thrown up against 
all the latest and most devilish tricks of German war- 
fare, including gas. There was poison-gas and smoke- 
gas, terrible artillery, awful rifle-fire, and| of course 
the rifle and bayonet. You seemed to be up against 
every sort of devilry, including the Germans. I sup- 
pose you can't expect anything else from them, being 
what they are. 

We were in reserve trenches on September 24th, and 
on the night of that same day we went up to the firing- 
line. 

It was a miserable night, with drizzling rain all the 
time. We started at ten o'clock, creeping and crawl- 
ing through a long communication trench. We did 
not finish this advance job till two o'clock next 
morning, and then we sat in the trench and waited 
for the dawn to break. It was a solemn business, 
squatting there in the cold drizzle, talking in low 
tones, and wondering which of us would go down. 

It was a lovely morn that broke, and glad we were 
to see it. Then, at about a quarter past five, the 
band began to play. And what a time it was, to be 
sure ! It was a terrible bombardment, with the 
whole countryside shaking and shivering with the 
crashing of the guns, and your head felt like bursting 
with the din. 

We had to stand this horrible racket for some time. 
I don't know how long, but it seemed a fair stretch ; 
then the word came to mount the parapet of the 
trench. It was a high parapet, and ladders were 
needed to get over it. There were plenty of ladders 



A STRETCHER-BEARER AT LOOS 199 

to each parapet, and as the order was one man to a 
ladder, no time was lost in getting out of the trench 
and on to the open ground over which the advance 
was made to the German trenches. 

As soon as the men who were making the attack 
got over the parapet, the stretcher-bearers went 
after them with the stretchers. My chum with my 
stretcher was Private Pymm. 

The men of our battalion had their smoke-helmets 
on, and they looked like devils. And that was a 
proper thing to look, for they went straight into a 
hellish fire — no other word will describe the storm of 
shells and bullets that met them. It seemed impos- 
sible for any one to live in it, yet our men went for- 
ward, and being a stretcher-bearer I had a wonderful 
view of them. 

As soon as we got over the parapet the men began 
to fall, and we began to bandage them up. What we 
had to deal with were mostly " blighty " wounds, as 
we called them — just one through the thigh, or a 
flesh wound. We did the best we could for them; 
and we had soon tackled a few. Then we went on 
and tackled a few more. We had dropped our 
stretcher and were hurrying about, each of us doing 
the best he could. 

I had got about ten yards ahead of Pymm, when I 
heard him shout; but there was such a terrible 
commotion that I could not make out what he said. 
We were at that time on the open ground, and it 
was bad to hear the cries of the poor fellows who 
were shouting for stretcher-bearers. I was that 
busy I forgot about Pymm, and supposed that he, 
like myself, was dressing and bandaging. 

People at home in England, with things going on 



200 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

pretty much as usual in spite of the war, don't realise 
what cries for help from the wounded mean ; but they 
are very terrible and pitiful, and I shall never forget 
them. But there is one fine thing about it — you 
never think of yourself, and the idea of danger doesn't 
bother you, especially when you're in the thick of it. 

At this time the attack on the German trenches 
was very fierce, and there was a tremendous fire which 
seemed to sweep everything and everywhere. There 
did not seem to be a chance of escaping, and sure 
enough I got caught. I was hit, and I felt it; but 
I did not know how I was wounded, and I didn't 
care about it — I was too full of what was happen- 
ing. And the wounded were crying for help; so I 
carried on. 

I let myself gaze at the sights in front of me. I 
don't suppose that I gazed for more than a few 
seconds; but a lot took place in that short space of 
time, especially where I was. 

I was not more than forty or fifty yards away 
from some barbed wire entanglements in front of 
me. These had not been properly cleared away, so 
it meant that our chaps had to rush them as best 
they could on their way to the German trenches. 
The wire-cutters dashed up and cut away at the 
stuff, and the other chaps rushed on with the bayonet. 
This seemed to me to go on for just a few seconds; 
but I may be wrong. At any rate, even in that 
short time, a terrible lot of chaps went down. I 
did not notice what the wire-cutters really did; 
but they must have used their wire-cutters well. 
At any rate, our chaps got through and made the 
Germans run. 

Well, I watched all this for a bit, then I heard 



A STRETCHER-BEARER AT LOOS 201 

the cries again, and all I thought about then was to 
try and do something for the poor chaps who were 
wounded and were so much worse off than I was. 

One of our men had gone down, and I hurried up 
to him and dressed and bandaged him as best I 
could. He ought to have gone to the dressing- 
station, but instead of that he rejoined his regiment 
and kept in the fighting-line for four days more; 
then, as he wasn't fit to do any active duty, he was 
sent away. I learned afterwards that this was 
Company-Sergeant-Major L. Ford, of my battalion, 
who has got the D.C.M. 1 

While I was busy on this job, several men offered 
to help me and to attend to my own wound; but I 
told them that I could manage all right, and wasn't 
in need of doctoring. 

I was in full view of the Germans, but I didn't 
bother my head about that. I saw, lying in the open, 
a soldier who was wounded and wanted help, and I 
started off for him. I walked — I don't remember that 
I dodged or ducked much, because I wasn't caring. 
I remember that one of my officers shouted to me 
to hurry up and get out of it and seek some sort of 
cover. I shouted back that I was all right and that 
I didn't mind it. The funny thing is, that officers 
were so anxious about their men, and never seemed to 
give a thought to themselves. 



1 This award was gazetted at the same time as the announce- 
ment of the D.C.M. for Private Edwards. It was " For conspicuous 
gallantry from September 25th to 29th, near Hulloch. Although 
severely wounded on the head in the early part of the operations, 
Company- Sergeant -Major Ford continued to advance and give 
encouragement to his men until he fell. His example and devotion 
to duty were of the highest possible value to all ranks. He had 
already been recommended for his gallant conduct at Festubert.' 1 



202 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

I never reached the wounded man, for as I was 
staggering across the open towards him — I was begin- 
ning to feel the effects of my wound — I felt a sharp 
pain somewhere, and I gradually sank down to the 
ground and lay there. I did not know at the time 
what sort of a wound it was, or where; but I knew 
that it was a bullet, and that I had got a second good 
'un which had nearly put me to sleep. 

A black cloud seemed to come over me and I went 
into sweet slumber. I must have slept a long time, 
for when I awoke I could see only a few soldiers 
knocking about ; but I could hear them still fighting 
it out. I can't tell what exactly took place behind 
the mine which was called Tower Bridge or at the 
quarries, because I was wounded before I reached 
the German line. What I am talking about relates 
to the things that happened on the open ground 
around me when I was wounded, and what I saw in 
my own neighbourhood at other times. You can't 
do more than that. 

I had a few hours' sleep; then two soldiers came 
along and I awoke. I asked them to stick me up 
on my props and give me a lift; but they were 
wounded, too. However, they did the best they 
could, and put me up, and I staggered about six 
yards. Then I fell again, and I remember no more 
until I heard a fellow shouting, " Here's Edwards, 
sergeant ! " Then somebody said, " Yes — and poor 
Pymm's lower down here." They were our own 
stretcher-bearers. 

Then, for the first time, I knew that Pymm had 
fallen. He had gone down, mortally wounded, when 
I heard him shout. When I learned this it was well 
on into the afternoon, eight or ten hours after the 



A STRETCHER-BEARER AT LOOS 203 

fight began ; and all that time I had had nothing to 
drink. 

There were plenty of the trench ladders lying 
about, and one of these was got, and I was put on 
it by my chums and carried to a trench at the back, 
to the medical officer. Water was either not obtain- 
able or they would not give it to me — I dare say that 
was it, because later I had empyema — so the medical 
officer gave me an acid drop; and I made the best 
of it. 

When I reached the trench it started to rain, and 
I got soaked, for the soil was chalk stuff and the 
water could not get through. So I had to lie in the 
water for some hours, and it was not until next 
morning that I got to the first-aid dressing-station. 
I was two days more before I got down to the 
Canadian Hospital, where, afterwards, the medical 
officer, Captain Parnis, who had been kindness itself 
to me, told me that I had been recommended for 
the D.C.M. 

By this time I knew that I had been shot through 
the lungs, and that the wound was dangerous. It 
was a very narrow squeak; but a miss is as good 
as a mile, though in my case it meant a long spell 
in hospital. But everything that it was possible to 
do for us was done, and outside people also are very 
kind ; they write to you and come and see you, and 
they send you things — sometimes tracts, which you 
don't want. My picture was given in the papers 
and kind things were written about me, and the 
idea got about that I was a mere youngster. I dare 
say that was the reason why some children sent me 
a Christmas-box — thinking, perhaps, that I was their 
own age. They sent me half a dozen cigars — real 



204 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

cigars ; a little wooden horse, and a " platter " dog, 
as we call that sort of crockery in Staffordshire, filled 
with chocolates. I valued the children's gift all the 
more because I am young — just out of my teens; I 
was in them when I enlisted — so I have a lot in my 
favour, and hope soon to be quite well again. 

Here's a letter from one of the officers of my regi- 
ment — he wrote to my dad, too — saying how proud 
they are because I've got the D.C.M. 

Well, I do feel proud, too, naturally; but it came 
as a great surprise to me, for never did I think of 
such a thing; and when people speak to me about 
it, I simply say, " I only did my duty, as others 
have done." 



CHAPTER XVI 

A FUSILIER IN FRANCE 

[The following story of a baptism of fire and subsequent ex- 
periences at Loos and in France is told by Private Fred. Knott, 
who, soon after the war broke out, left civil life at the call of duty 
and enlisted in the Royal Fusiliers. Like so many present-day 
soldiers Private Knott kept a record, under fire, of many of his 
experiences, until he was wounded and invalided home. From 
this selection we become more intimately acquainted with the 
life of our men not only in the trenches but also, which is equally 
interesting, with their doings when they are resting and able to 
share in the foreign life around them. We have had abundant 
proof during the war of the considerable powers of observation 
and description which so many of our fighting men possess.] 

A year's hard training had got us more or less used 
to marching; yet when we got to Bethune we were 
nearly all done up, for we had been on the road three 
days. We eagerly sought our billets, which in my 
own case happened to be an attic in an empty house. 
Our " cookers " followed us, so that next morning 
we had a good breakfast; then we raided the pump 
at the back of the house, hurried through a wash 
and sallied into the street, where we saw a sight 
that will not be forgotten. 

There was an almost continuous procession of 
ambulances, full of wounded men from the Loos 
front ; and an endless stream of men of all regiments 
were walking down the street to the dressing-station. 
The British soldier has a happy knack of looking at 

205 



206 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the bright side of a gloomy picture, and even now 
amusement was caused by the spectacle of one or 
two Scotsmen wearing Prussian Guards' helmets and 
walking along quite unconcerned about their wounds, 
most of which were in the arm. 

In the afternoon we left our billet for the trenches. 
At the first halt a party of 200 German prisoners 
passed us. I have never seen such a collection of 
dejected, worn-out individuals. One man, who was 
apparently a non-commissioned officer, leaned on 
the arm of one of the guards for support, and his 
face was the picture of despair and misery. 

Knowing what this war means to France especially, 
and what the French have had to endure from 
Germany for over forty years, it was very interesting 
to notice the attitude of quite little French children 
towards the captives. These boys and girls, stand- 
ing on the pavement, insulted and spat upon the 
Germans, who, however, took little notice of them. 

On the road we passed some of our own Tommies, 
coming from the trenches, and rejoicing in their 
relief. They wanted to cheer us, and shouted, 
"Hurry up, chaps; there's plenty left for you to 
do up there." They were quite right, as we soon 
discovered. 

From Bethune we marched to the town of Ver- 
melles, where we had our first glimpse of the havoc 
caused by the enemy's artillery fire. The whole 
place was a mass of ruins, very few houses remaining 
intact. What had been a town had been smashed 
by German guns to a vast mass of rubbish. It was 
a melancholy sight, yet it strengthened the deter- 
mination to do our best to overcome the tyrants 
who had brought about such widespread misery and 



A FUSILIER IN FRANCE 207 

ruin. To make the sight all the more impressive, 
we distinctly heard the booming of the guns as we 
marched along. 

Another sight which filled us with silent reverence 
was a graveyard on one side of the road — graveyards, 
big and little, have sprung up in all sorts of unexpected 
places on and near the battlefields. There were many 
simple wooden crosses marking the graves of British 
soldiers who had fallen earlier in the war. The sight 
of these resting-places took the mind back to those 
terrible days when our men fought so magnificently 
against almost hopeless odds, and solemn thoughts 
came, almost unbidden, to many of us as we went 
on marching towards the trenches to get our baptism 
of fire. 

Outside the town another halt was made to let 
some cavalry pass. We had to wait at least a quarter 
of an hour for this — and a fine sight it was to watch 
the passing of these mounted men, for the nature 
of this war has made it quite a rare thing to see 
considerable bodies of cavalry. 

After leaving the main road and taking one or two 
cross-cuttings we found ourselves in a wild, desolate 
field, covered with fairly large shrubs and weeds. It 
was one of the most miserable and depressing fields 
imaginable, and to crown its wretchedness rain was 
falling heavily and steadily and the ground was 
sodden. 

The ammunition mules were in the rear, and we 
were served out with 130 rounds each. This looked 
like real business, and when it was over we extended 
in artillery formation, and cautiously advanced along 
the field. Everything now was done as if we were 
actually in the presence of the enemy, and there was 



208 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

a singular thrill and excitement amongst us and a 
constant wonder of " What next ? " 

We had moved a considerable distance, when we 
reached a reserve trench. We were ordered to enter 
it, for obviously it would have been fatal to go any 
farther by daylight. 

In this trench we were concealed until it was dark. 
We were in great discomfort owing to the rain, and 
we were almost knee-deep in mud. We were not sorry 
when, as evening fell, we got out of the trench and 
again advanced in artillery formation; but only for 
a few yards. 

The order was now given to lie down, for the enemy 
flares were going up one after the other, and it seemed 
as if at any moment our presence would be made 
known and a heavy fire directed on us. 

The long marching and exposure to the bad weather 
had had their effect upon us. We were sodden, and in 
addition to the weight of our clothing and equipment 
and ammunition we had the weight of the rain and 
the mud, so you can easily understand that as we lay 
flat on the ground we dropped off into a heavy sleep. 

I don't know how long we slept — I don't think it 
was long — but we were galvanised into wakefulness 
in a second, for a shell had burst not more than 
twenty yards in front of us with a terrific report, and 
a shower of earth fell on us. 

That was the beginning of my baptism of fire, and 
it was the most startling awakening I ever had. It 
was a stern warning, too, and we quickly retired to 
another reserve trench a short distance away and 
jumped pell-mell into it. There were some good 
goers that night, in spite of heavy ground and heavier 
equipment; but we soon recovered our composure 







>3 

o 








A FUSILIER IN FRANCE 209 

when we were in the trench, and laughed and made 
the best of it. 

From this reserve trench we entered the main 
communication trench, and here we had one of those 
mysterious and unnerving experiences which have 
been so often known in this tremendous war. Pro- 
gress at the best was slow and difficult, but it was 
made far worse because of the repeated issue of the 
order, " Retire ! " 

For some time we kept going " about turn," up 
and down the trench, though when word was passed 
down the line all our officers denied having made use 
of the term, and they urged us forward. 

This strange matter gave us something to talk 
about for a long time, and the general feeling was 
that it was the work of a German spy, though the 
mysterious agent was never discovered. 

We were now getting really into the thick of things, 
and two companies of the battalion made their way 
into the firing-line, while my own company went 
into reserve; and there we had our first touch of 
gas, though luckily without any serious loss of life. 
When the gas attack had passed we tried to snatch 
some sleep, but this was impossible, as we were 
quickly detailed for various duties, such as ration- 
carrying and supplying the first line with ammuni- 
tion. I found myself at the latter task, and started 
out to find a regiment which was holding the front 
line on the right. 

And now I had one of those awful experiences 
which have so often fallen to soldiers in this war — 
one of the things which, little in themselves, mean 
so much to the individual, especially to one who has 
not got accustomed to such warfare as this. 



210 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

After making my way through countless trenches, 
some of which were empty and absolutely reeked of 
gas, I found myself in a narrow ditch — it could not 
be called a trench — which was literally filled with 
dead bodies. Snipers' bullets were whizzing all 
around me, and often I had to take cover by lying 
alongside a dead comrade. Each side of the ditch 
was strewn with bodies, the wounds on which were 
too ghastly to be described. Thoroughly sickened 
at the sight, I had to press on, treading on poor 
fellows' bodies all the time. It was truly horrible, 
but the ammunition had to be got there, and this 
was the only way to get along. 

At last I reached the regiment I wanted, and found 
that it was keeping up rapid rifle fire. Leaving the 
ammunition with an officer, I started on my home- 
ward journey, which I thankfully accomplished, but 
with great difficulty. I was very much impressed 
by the flares as I went along, and I do not exaggerate 
at all when I say that they were distinctly reminiscent 
of a firework display. 

Reaching my own lines, I found that I was not 
wanted for any more fatigues, so I thankfully crept 
into a dug-out at the rear and fell fast asleep. 

Early next morning we attacked the enemy, and 
I got my proper baptism of fire. Two of our com- 
panies had gone into action and had lost rather 
heavily, and my company was ordered to reinforce. 

I was amongst the men who were chosen to reinforce, 
and leaving the reserve trench we passed into the fire 
trench and so over the top, amid a shower of bullets. 

The Germans were hidden in a coal-mine near the 
famous " Tower Bridge," and it seemed hopeless to 
try and dislodge them; but the British had deter- 



A FUSILIER IN FRANCE 211 

mined to have a try, and so we advanced, dropping 
now and again for cover. Here again the ground 
was strewn with bodies, and often it was necessary 
to use one of them as a covering screen. 

It became necessary for some of us, myself amongst 
them, to withdraw to the original fire trench, and 
there we remained for two days. On the second day 
a lull in the fighting occurred, though there was a 
sharp watch on both sides and rounds were exchanged. 
A strange thing happened at this stage of the 
fighting. One of our N.C.O.s, going through a 
deserted fire-bay, found a man in khaki who was 
behaving in a very mysterious way. The N.C.O. 
grew suspicious, and with the help of two privates 
he marched the man before the colonel. The man 
said he was a Welsh Fusilier, but one of our men 
who had previously served in the Welsh Fusiliers 
soon showed that the statement was utterly false. 

The man was searched, and then the amazing 
discovery was made that he had no fewer than a 
dozen identification-discs of different regiments. 

Further questionings showed beyond all doubt that 
he was a very bold and cunning spy, and he was shot 
with very little ceremony. 

Another day passed, and at night we were relieved. 
When we marched back through Vermelles we were 
utterly exhausted, and I dare say we looked pitiful 
objects, for we were thickly covered with clay and 
were minus the best part of our equipment ; but we 
were proud, all the same, and I think the pride was 
justified, for it must be remembered that many of 
the men who took part in the very heavy fighting 
at Loos were soldiers who, like myself, had only just 
had their baptism of fire. They had at any rate done 



212 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

their best to uphold the tradition of British courage 
and endurance. 

Trench life forms such an immense feature of the 
war that it will be interesting, I dare say, to give a 
little detailed account of it, just to show how closely 
resembling animal and savage conditions are those 
which have to be endured, and which, as a rule, 
are borne cheerfully and in a thorough make-the- 
best-of-it spirit. 

We had been ordered to go to the trenches, this 
time on a new front. The line was situated on a canal 
bank, and we took up our position at night, carefully 
picking our way, helped by the lights of the flares. 

At the end of our journey we found a series of dug- 
outs at the side of the water, and I and my chum 
quickly claimed one of them. This dug-out just 
conveniently held two men, though space was very 
limited. The prospect was not promising, but two 
heads were better than one, especially on active 
service, and soon we had rigged up the " mac." sheet 
and the overcoats and made a cosy bed, and we 
made ourselves comfortable. We were the better 
able to do this because the night was mild and the 
firing confined to an occasional shell — a mere nothing 
as a disturber of harmony. The next order was a 
cup of cafi au lait, and I don't think people at home 
realise what a joy it is to set to work on such a little 
treat as this. 

My chum carried a small, compact spirit-lamp, 
and with this and a tin mug we soon had a glorious 
steaming drink ready. We dwelt on it as much 
and as long as we could, then settled down to sleep, 
making ourselves snug by covering the doorway of 
the dug-out with a piece of old sacking. This was 



A FUSILIER IN FRANCE 218 

not an easy matter, for the enemy had become 
aggressive, and a heavy bombardment started. It 
was bad enough to make us open our doorway and 
look out, and we soon saw that the shells were find- 
ing their mark in the canal in front of us, sending 
the water up in great sprays. This we could easily 
make out by means of the brilliant flares. Now and 
again a shell missed fire, and we just saw it as it 
plumped into the water. 

Higher up in the officer s' dug-out a gramophone 
was playing, and amid the sound of bursting shells 
we heard snatches of songs that carried our minds 
back to England and home. Later the shelling 
ceased, and once more we tried to sleep. This time 
a new trouble arose, in the shape of huge rats crawl- 
ing over us. By means of candle-light we started 
destroying them with a bayonet; but this was a 
difficult task, for the rats often enough were swifter 
than the jabs at them. There were plenty of squeals 
in the dug-out, and these and our own cries mingled 
with the shrieks that came from rats outside, both 
in front and rear of the trenches, which were fighting 
pitched battles. This uncanny and unpleasant hunt 
in the dug-out ended in time, and we managed to 
gain a little rest. I am reminded that in one lot of 
trenches which we occupied in another part of the 
line a tree-trunk had fallen across the fire-bay, and 
at night a continual procession of rats could be seen 
crossing it, in spite of repeated slashes at them with 
bayonets. 

Next day we had an opportunity of scanning the 
surrounding district. Farther along we could see 
the damaged steeple of a church, once a handsome 
building, now in ruins, for it had proved a good target 



214 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

for the German guns. On the opposite side of the 
canal several fine trees had been struck down, leaving 
blanks in a stately avenue. I gazed at the canal 
itself and wondered how many brave fellows' bodies 
had found their last resting-place there, for it was 
the scene of a big advance earlier in the year. But 
my reflections were cut short by military duties, and 
I was detailed for various tasks, such as rifle-cleaning, 
fetching rations, etc., while my companion made a 
fire to cook the breakfast. We now settled down to 
a more or less regular routine, and waited our turn 
to strike an offensive blow at the enemy at the first 
opportunity. 

It is usual after a spell in the trenches for a regiment 
to retire to a village in rear of the firing-line for a 
rest, and I was always glad of this change, because 
it afforded many a strange sight to me, an average 
British soldier. We reached our village at about four 
o'clock in the afternoon, and each platoon found itself 
billeted in a barn at one of the farms which abounded 
in that particular locality. Here the town-bred man 
had the chance to study foreign rural life, a little hobby 
which helped him for the time to forget the trenches 
and their inevitable discomforts and dangers. 

After a time we easily adapted ourselves to the 
rough straw beds that were provided for us, and we 
very soon found that we must not object if we had 
a ferret or two in a cage quite close to the bed. As 
a matter of fact we were soon on good terms with 
the fierce little creatures, which have proved splendid 
friends to the soldiers in the trenches in hunting and 
killing the swarming rats. 

When we went out on voyages of discovery we 
found that the typical village contained one or two 



A FUSILIER IN FRANCE 215 

estaminets — they are rarely called cafes in the rural 
parts of France — and possibly one or two little 
shops — epiceries — which sell a variety of things 
appealing to a soldier's simple tastes. At certain 
hours the British Tommy is allowed in the estaminets, 
where such drinks as beer and red and white wines 
and the customary cafe au lait are obtainable cheaply. 
It is found from experience that these places rarely 
have change for paper money, which at times is 
rather awkward, especially when combined with a 
vague knowledge of the language; and the usual 
reply is " No money " — truly a poor consolation to 
a thirsty soldier. In time, however, we became 
known to the keeper of the estaminet, and when 
money became circulated the difficulty was remedied. 
A brief stay in a village was enough to make the 
villagers friendly, and little kindnesses on both sides 
became a common practice. 

A characteristic of every place was the lack of 
facilities to obtain extra meals, though at certain 
estaminets & good repast of fried eggs and chips, with 
an occasional dish of stewed rabbit, was procurable. 

This is merely a glimpse of the peaceful and gladly 
welcomed break in the life of the soldier who is on 
active service. It makes you all the more fit for the 
trenches and that night sentry duty to which you 
are so often roused in your dug-out by the corporal 
shouting, " Next relief ! " 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE DAILY ROUND 

[By way of contrast with the diary which was kept in Galli- 
poli by an Australian soldier, and is given on page 180, and as an 
admirable companion to that work, there is this diary of a young 
officer, kept by him while serving on the Western Front. The 
diary is of the small, leather-bound pocket variety, and it was 
kept by means of the little pocket- pencil accompanying it, in 
small, yet clear and coherent writing, despite shell fire, bombs 
and other warlike elements. The extracts are made exactly as 
they were entered from day to day, and they form a deeply inter- 
esting record of what is " the daily round, the common task" 
of a very large number of junior officers who have undergone 
precisely the same experiences with unfailing cheerfulness and 
courage. The writer after serving in an Officers' Training Corps, 
was posted to a Service battalion of a famous old Line regiment.] 

Dec. IZth, 1915. 

Marched to , seven miles. Water in places 

up to the knees. No billets for B Co. on arrival. 



Marched to , three miles. 



Dec. Uth. 



Dec. 15th. 

Marched up to trenches, , eight miles. Awful 

condition. Big craters in front, and three saps in 
our line. 

Dec. l&k 
Narrowest escape of self yet recorded. Shell burst 
in trench and killed man one and a half yards away 

216 



THE DAILY ROUND 217 

and blew your humble into the mud, together with 
another CO. and others. Two other men wounded. 
Felt a bit shaky for some time. 

Dec. 11 th. 
Relieved for forty- eight hours and marched to 

, four miles. Good billets. Delicious shave 

and wash, and two glorious nights in my valise. 

Dec. ISth. 

Pass into , to see H. 1 No luck — on leave. 

He returned ten minutes after I left for . 

Dec. 19th. 
H. ran over to see me, and we had two full hours' 
" jawing," and cafS au lait. Left for same trenches 
at 12.30. Had a warm reception with artillery, and 
owing to some " show " in the vicinity had to stand-to 
for hours. Raining hard and mud knee-deep — 
miserable, and thought and thought of the happy 
home, and wondered and wondered ! Went out on 
patrol with one man at five next morning, but had 
to return post-haste, as three of the enemy were on 
similar job and washed our intentions out. 

Dec. 20th. 
Shelling all day, both sides. Few men hit. 

Dec. 21st. 
At stand-to, 6 a.m. Much shelling. Very un- 
comfortable. At 7.30 an enemy mine went up — a 
fearsome thing. The sensations were these — 

1 H. is the writer's elder brother, a motor dispatch-rider, who 
has been at the front since the war began, and has done some fine, 
hard work. 



218 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

I. A horrible rocking of the trench. 
II. A tremendous dull roar. 
III. A huge column of earth rising higher and 
higher into the sky. 

Then came the falling matter, we lying in the 
bottom of the trench, while everything imaginable 
fell around — earth — huge clods — sandbags and 
timber. One big piece of wood landed with a thud 
a foot from my head and spattered me with mud. 
Escape No. 2 since I joined. Fortunately the mine 
was lifted just beyond our saps, and presumably in 
the same place as the crater. No one was seriously 
hurt — only two slightly knocked about. Of course 
an attack was expected, but none came, and we 
stood- to till 8.30. Had an awful time from mine 
explosion till we were relieved at 2.30 p.m. Marvel- 
lous how we all escaped. I thought my number was 
up every minute, and my nerves were not of the 
best and I was feeling a bit rocky. While relief was 
being carried on we had an awful time : all kinds 
of shells, big and small, landing everywhere. Very 
fortunate to get out with no casualties. Incoming 
regiment had a few. At 11.15 p.m. I returned to 
trenches in order to go out again on patrol. Was 
out for thirty minutes, took survey and returned 
safely, covered with mud and pretty wet. Returned 

to Farm, where my platoon is billeted. It is 

a small fortress, built up with sandbags from a big 
ruined brewery. Last night while asleep, about 3.30 
a.m., a big shell burst just outside my cellar door, 
and again I thought my number was up. Earth, 
etc., was shot into my abode, and the doorway blocked 
up, not to mention bricks ; but I was left intact. 



THE DAILY ROUND 219 

Dec. 22nd. 

Shelling this ruined village all the morning, 

and the trips to the men at meal-times were very- 
risky, the latter being in another keep 150 yards up 
the road. One had to dash for it every time. Shell- 
ing remained hot, so had to remain at the mess till 
after tea, 4.30 p.m. 

Gas attack from our trenches at 9 p.m. Quiet 
for ten minutes, then fearful shindy. Stood-to in 
our redoubt, but had to get to cellars when shelling 
started — and such shelling : the worst I've ever 
experienced. They came in dozens. Then we began, 
and the noise was hellish. They fell all around us and 
some hit the shattered walls, making a hail of bricks. 
I felt a peculiar tightening round the heart when 
one of the big variety buried itself under the cellar 
wall I was in and failed to go off. It fairly seemed 
to lift the floor, and the sickening thud was as bad 
as the fearful racking explosions. It was nothing 
short of miraculous that our cellar got off scot-free. 
All this time we could see through our loop-hole 
the explosions of the shells on the trenches, 300 yards 
to the front, and by their light and the light of the 
German searchlights and fires we could see the huge 
clouds of gas on their death-dealing errand. 

The Germans put huge fires on their parapets to 
lift the gas over their heads. 

It was an unforgettable scene, with their and our 
own star-lights making night into day. It was 
indescribable pandemonium. 

The shelling died down after a couple of hours, 
and we stood down and tried to sleep ; but it started 
again at 12.45 a.m. for an hour, and again at 4.45 a.m. ; 
and this practically meant stand-to all night. 



220 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

One of the worst nights I've spent out here — in 
fact, the worst. 

About 2 a.m. I got word that , one of our 

B Co. officers, was killed while waiting to go out on 
patrol to ascertain the effects of gas on enemy. He 
was a fine chap, and most popular, and even now it 
is difficult to believe he is really gone. Another 
lucky escape for us (B Co.) that we were not occupy- 
ing the trenches. They were blown out of all 
recognition and the casualties were awful, the lines 
being strewn with dead and wounded and buried 
men. 

The trench occupied the previous night by my 
platoon is absolutely gone, and only six men are 
left in the platoon holding it at the time of the 
" show." 

Dec. 23rd. 

Shelling continued all the morning — most uncom- 
fortable, and we had many narrow escapes, walls 
round us being blown to h — ; but still our cellar 
got off. We were relieved at 12.30, and, things being 
quieter, we got off down the road at top speed. 

What joy to see actually motor buses waiting for 

us three miles back, which took us by way of 

to , a small village where our few days' rest 

and incidentally Christmas, will be spent. The 
change will be much appreciated by yours truly. I 
have just had my first wash and shave for four days, 
and feel cleaner than ever before in my life ; and in 
a clean change and new suit I wouldn't call the King 
my aunt ! 

A delicious surprise was the sight of H. on the 
road, waiting for me as our convoy of buses neared 



THE DAILY ROUND 221 

. We had a good chat, and I hope to see 

him to-morrow again. 

Dec. 2tih. 
Morning with platoon, cleaning up, etc. After- 
noon obtained pass to go and see H. Had a glorious 
Christmas Eve, far beyond expectations. Good tea, 
theatre, dinner, and two hours' solo. Fine evening. 
Came back on the carrier at 10.30. 

Dec. 25th. 
Christmas Day in France. 

Up at 6.30 and marched bathing party into 
Left them and looked up H. In bed; got 



him up and had breakfast with him and a walk 

round, and marched my party back here by 

10.30. Wrote two letters and found five waiting 
for me — long-delayed ones. This was a fine Christmas 
gift. 

11 a.m. Went over to men's sports till 12.30 
lunch. Helped to pay out from 2.30 p.m. till four. 
Tea and chat till dinner ; chicken and plum pudding. 
Very good. Talked till 10.30 and then to bed. Very 
quiet evening, during which my thoughts were for 
the most part with the dear old folks at home. . . . 

NEXT CHRISTMAS??? 

Dee. 26th. 

Quiet day. Morning, church parade and men 
cleaned up. Afternoon, other officers out, so I was 
O.C. for the time being. Spent two hours censoring 
eighty letters ! Quiet evening. Dinner and chat ; 
bed 10 p.m. 

Heavy bombardment going on in distance. 



222 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Dec. 21th. 

Morning, getting ready to move. 

Moved at 2 p.m. Raining. 

Got into trenches at 4.30 p.m. In reserve, 1500 
yards from enemy — and a nice change for B Co. 

At night I went on patrol with a man to find a 
way across country to A Co., who were holding a 
line to our right front. Awful going, but got there. 

Came back by road through village and Danger 

Corner. Out two and a half hours. 

Slept as well as I could on a narrow board till 
7.30 next morning. 

Dec. 28th. 
Quiet day. Went out at night with CO. Got 
lost, and were out three hours. Good joke. 

Dec. 29th. 

Quiet day. Went out in the morning on voyage 
of discovery round old trenches. Went in to the 
left shoulder in mud and water. Another good 
joke ! 

Dec. 30th. 

Quiet day. A few shells on the right; but we 
were left alone. At 5 p.m. I went out with a party 
of seventy, carrying all kinds of things to the front 
line. Out till 8 p.m. Quiet night. 

Dec. 31st. 
A wet day. The road behind was shelled heavily 
all day, but fortunately it was quiet while we were 
being relieved after dusk. Had the real Bank Holiday 
feeling on getting to reserve line billets two miles away, 
and enjoyed a splendid night in my valise. Had one 



THE DAILY ROUND 223 

drop of whisky at 9.30 p.m. to drink the health of 
the New Year; but sleep was by far the most im- 
portant thing, so to bed at 10 p.m., to dream of home 
and the dear old past. 

Woke during the night to hear the guns in the 
back garden booming in the New Year, and shaking 
and rattling walls and windows. Dreams shattered ! 

Jan. 1st, 1916. 

What luck for the New Year ? 

How fervent is the hope for a glimpse of the end 
before many of the new months have gone. 

In the morning looked round the men and inspected 
several things, followed by a little revolver practice. 
Had a sleep, or tried to, after lunch; but attempt 
was futile, owing to thoughts. 

W r ent out with party of fifty at 5 p.m. to the 
trenches, repairing roads, filling up shell-holes, etc. 
Returned at 9 p.m., and to bed. 

Sunday, Jan. 2nd. 

Church parade in top floor of rickety old barn at 
11 a.m., followed by an impromptu Communion 
Service, during which my thoughts wandered. . . . 
These services always touch me more than anything 
else I know of, and unbidden thoughts rise and fill 
me with longings and yearnings that are inclined to 
be unpatriotic, as well as bringing the familiar lump 
to the throat which every one experiences out here 
at times, and a queer feeling round the heart. 

Afternoon, went to in company with 

other officers in motor lorry, to attend lecture on 
telescopic sights and sniping. Returned at 6 p.m., 



224 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

and joyfully found I had just missed a working party 
to the trenches. 

Tucked myself in my valise at 9.30. 

Jan. 3rd. 

Platoons cleaning up. Inspected rifles, etc. Had 
my first lesson in riding. Felt rather insecure at 
first, but found the " bump " after an uncomfortable 
100 yards jogging about, to the great delight and 
amusement of my men; at which I joined in. Had 
a small gallop before finish, and stuck on. 

Afternoon, writing letters and reading, and out 
with working party to the trenches at 4.30 p.m., 
mending shell-holes in roads, etc. Returned at 
9 p.m., and to bed. 

Jan. 4,th. 

Relieved and went to for a four days' rest, 

at 11.30 a.m. Spent afternoon in reconnoitring old 
trenches in neighbourhood, to see necessary repairs 
required, stores, etc. Quiet evening. Splendid billet 
— bedroom to myself, feather bed and sheets, wash- 
stand ; very lucky for once. First bed since leaving 
Boseghem four weeks ago. Good mess-room, fire 
and two arm-chairs. House kept by two middle- 
aged women, very kind, do anything; also little 
niece, aged eight, who speaks English well. She and 
I are good friends. 

Jan. 5th. 
Out with working party to repair trenches from 
9.30 a.m. till 1.30 p.m. Lunch and letter- writing. 

Went up to later to execute several shopping 

commissions. Had splendid crop (first since 



THE DAILY ROUND 225 

after patiently waiting one hour. ' Oh ! these 
French hairdressers ! One snip of the scissors every 
five minutes; one requires the patience of Job. 

Went to pictures; pretty fair; and had dinner 
at the Lion d'Or. It seemed very quiet and deserted 
compared to my last visit, when the M.C.s were 
there. Back at 9 p.m., and to bed between the 
sheets. 

Jan. 6th. 
Out with working party, as per yesterday, from 
10 a.m. to 1.30 p.m. Lunch 2 p.m. Inspection of 
B Co. by CO. Me in command of company ! Two- 
thirty, paid out to the men. Awful long job. 



Jan. 1th. 
Morning, 10 a.m. to 1.30 p.m., out with working 
party. H. called for few minutes, 2 p.m. Lecture 
on arms and care of rifles, etc., 4 p.m. Met H. at 
Lion d'Or in B. at 4.45 (splendid being able to do 
this). Tea, long chat and theatre at six o'clock. 
Panto., Alladin. Really tip-top, although men were 
disguised as girls. Plenty of fun and laughter. 
Sent in an application to-day for post as observer 
in R.F.C. Have great hopes. Life consists mainly 
of latter nowadays. 

Jan. 8th. 
Working party repairing trenches 9.30 to 1.30. 
Lovely morning. Two p.m., lecture in field on use 
of rifle — old as the hills (lecture); but I suppose 
they must work on the motto, " Anything to keep 
the time employed." 
Q 



226 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Sunday, Jan. 9th. 

Marched to trenches (same place as Dec. 15). 
Beautiful day and everything quiet — not a day for 
war at all. On nearing the line the noise of guns 
and bursting shells broke on our ears, increasing in 
sound as we drew nearer, until we got as per usual 
in amongst them. 

Had to go in single file at intervals up the infernal 
road. No one hit. 

Got in the same old corner, and found to our relief 
the trenches had been built up again passably well 
after the bombardment of the night of Dec. 22. 

Jan. lOthand llth. 

Contrary to expectations had two quiet days — of 
course, the usual few shells, but no great quantity. 
My platoon occupied the trench on left of company, 
instead of, as last time, close up on the right, 1000 
yards from enemy. 

Relieved at 8 p.m. on llth, and we came back 

to the old keep ( Farm). Everything very 

quiet all night, and enjoyed a good sleep on a stretcher 
in one of the cellars, despite the attentions of rats 
in plenty. 

Jan. 12th. 

Quiet walk up to Headquarters for breakfast and 
back. Enemy began shelling roadway close by, and 
everything else within reach, at 11.20; still going 
on at time of writing, 12.45. When shall I be able 
to go up for lunch? 

Got there intact. 



THE DAILY ROUND 227 

Jan. 13$. 
Quiet day. Went back to front line at 7 p.m. for 
a further forty-eight hours. Quiet night. 

Jan. 14$. 

Found in the morning that in addition to the 
usual bombs, grenades and shells we had a trench 
mortar opposite us, which kept lobbing big black 
objects over all day, burying men and knocking our 
trenches to pieces. There was not much else they 
could use on us now; but we gave them back two 
for every one we received, and at 2 p.m. we com- 
menced a big " strafe " with rifle-grenades, bombs 
and mortars. It was good to see them bursting, and 
altogether we expended over 800 (!) in an hour. 

We got all manner of things back, from a bullet 
to a 6-inch. The latter were falling 100 yards from 
the rear of our breastworks, and we could actually 
see them falling the last fifty feet or so. 

All quiet by 4 p.m. Quiet night — far different to 
our expectations. 

Jan. 15$. 

Each side shelling all day unceasingly, with the 
usual quota of bombs. We were relieved at 7.30 p.m., 

and came back in safety to , after six more 

days of LIFE ? 

Very weary, and thankful for quiet and my valise. 

Sunday, Jan. 16$. 
Marched to a small village — seven miles, and 
found we had comfortable billets, and a mattress 

for the writer. Moving again to , nine miles 

from here, to-morrow. HURRAH ! We are (or 
should be) " out " for sixteen days. 



228 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

Jan. 11th. 

Marched to on the famous cobble-stones 

of France the whole way. Poor feet ! On arriving 
was delighted to find I had a cosy room with 
feather bed and a good mess 200 yards down the 
road. Spent the evening trying to get level with 
correspondence. Hope we shall stay here all the 
time. Shall spend most of my spare moments 
writing — one of my chief pleasures when out, 
especially now I've got a respectable pen ! 

Jan. 18th. 
Slack day. Enjoyed the luxury of a " mess " and 
a fire. Spent a lot of time writing. 

Jan. 19th. 

My second birthday in the Army. . . . 

To-day's events, musketry and rifle drill, and shoot- 
ing on a temporary range in afternoon. Lovely day — 
like spring. 

Jan. 20th to 28th. 
Detailed for course of bombing instruction; and 
between these dates I learn much concerning these 
nefarious love- tokens. 

Jan. 28th to Feb. Uth. 
Our period of " Rest." (Time spent out of the 
trenches is so miscalled in the Army !) It was 
extended for reasons known only to those in lofty 
positions, and we spent the time in performing all 
the evolutions of an infantry battalion in training, 
drill, manoeuvres, etc. Of course, all this is very 
necessary after the sometimes enforced inactivity of 



THE DAILY ROUND 229 

the trenches, and helps to pull out the kinks; but 
it gets rather monotonous, and when we heard that 
we were off to the line again every one was glad. 

Feb. 1 5th. 
Said good-bye to our friends of the village and 
headed once more for the Land of Thrills. It took 
us three days, doing it in easy stages. 

Feb. ISth. 

Found ourselves in cellars in a much-ruined village 
just behind the line, viz. . There were ex- 
citing events last night, before our arrival, a few 
enemy mines having gone " up," and as soon as we 
arrived we had to begin fatiguing, connecting up the 
craters with the front line. 

(At this point the diary abruptly finishes ; but the 
writer was kept busy from day to day in the routine 
manner, doing his turn in each line, with the usual 
" hate " progressing, but nothing of great importance 
happening. Long exposure to the severe weather 
sent him into hospital, thence home, invalided. The 
very day after he reported " nothing of great import- 
ance happening " many of his comrades fell in a 
gallant and desperate assault on the Hohenzollern 
Redoubt.) 



CHAPTER XVIII 

SAVING THE SOLDIER : DR. GRENFELL's EXPERIENCE 

[Leaving his great work in Labrador and Newfoundland, so 
that he might visit the front as a member of the Harvard 
Surgical Unit, Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell spent three months in 
France as an army surgeon, and during a short stay in London 
related some of his experiences and indicated the marvellous 
advance that has been made in over-coming disease and saving 
our soldiers'' lives. Not long ago in public, Field-Marshal Lord 
Grenfell said that when he and Dr. Grenfell went into large 
communities people did not say to Dr. Grenfell " Are you 
a cousin of Lord Grenfell ? u They said to him (Lord Grenfell) 
" Are you a cousin of Dr. Wilfred Grenfell ? n And he was very 
proud indeed to be able to say yes. Dr. Grenfell's two cousins, 
the twin brothers who were both captains in the 9th (Queen's 
Royal) Lancers, were killed in action, one of them, Capt. F. O. 
Grenfell, being the first of the recipients of the Victoria Cross 
granted for the present war. Two other cousins, the brothers 
Capt. the Hon. Julian Grenfell and Sec.-Lt. the Hon. G. W. 
Grenfell, sons of Lord Desborough, have also fallen in the war.] 

I am on my way from France to Labrador, and I am 
really sorry to be out of khaki, though I never was 
in it before. 

While I was in the thick of my work on the other 
side of the Atlantic I was invited to join the Harvard 
Surgical Unit at the front. I found it possible to 
do so, because I knew that in my temporary absence 
my work in Labrador and Newfoundland would be 
faithfully carried on by my friends and devoted 
helpers. So I came over and was attached to the 
Harvard Unit with the rank of major, and the 

230 



SAVING THE SOLDIER 231 

experiences I have gained as an Army surgeon will 
remain amongst the greatest and proudest of my 
life. 

I have had the opportunity of seeing what the 
British Army is doing in many ways in this terrible 
war. I have been at many places, including the 
base at Boulogne, and many great battle-centres, 
such as Ypres, Bethune and Armentieres. And I 
have been in the trenches, so that I have had full 
chances of seeing what is really going on. It is 
hard, almost impossible, to find words in which to 
express admiration of the courage, endurance and 
humanity of the British troops in this terrible 
conflict. 

All my life has been a roving one, ever since I 
took my degree as a doctor exactly thirty years ago. 
When I really began life I decided to look for some 
field of work where I could be useful. I went into 
the London Hospital, and very soon became intensely 
interested in the Royal National Mission to Deep Sea 
Fishermen. In those days the fishing vessels were 
all sail, and when a man was seriously injured he 
had to be transferred to some vessel that was carry- 
ing fish to Billingsgate, and then he was taken to 
the London Hospital. This state of things on the 
North Sea brought home to one the possibility of 
Christian men preaching the gospel of love and 
help; and men went out and largely brought about 
that wonderful revolution which we see to-day 
amongst North Sea fishermen. 

I cannot help feeling that in the trenches, right 
along the line where the surgical men are working, 
there is just the same problem to deal with as we 
encountered in those early days of mission effort in 



232 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

the trawling fleets. Very great difficulties had to be 
overcome in performing operations in tiny mission 
hospital smacks on the open sea far from land ; just 
as unusual obstacles have to be surmounted in 
treating wounded fighting men at the front to-day. 
The problem in the North Sea was to heal men's 
bodies, as well as to help them to take a higher view 
of life ; and it seems to me that the problem at the 
front is just the same. 

In dealing with the body there have been preventive 
developments which are little short of marvellous. 
The history of war is not the history of wounds, 
as a rule it has been the history of disease; and 
speaking as an unbiassed person I think that in this 
connection we are doing a perfectly magnificent 
work. 

First of all, the troubles of the trench fighting have 
been the gas bacillus, which is an animal bacillus, 
and the tetanus bacillus. Both began operations in 
this war with terrible results, but now they have 
scarcely any effect. 

It must be remembered that the soil in France 
and Flanders, where so much of the fighting has 
taken place, is highly cultivated, and is therefore 
splendid breeding-ground for these deadly bacilli. 
So much is this the case with tetanus that in the 
early stages of the war bits of uniform which have 
been driven into the body, however slightly, were 
infinitely more dangerous than serious wounds 
caused by clean shrapnel, for the cloth, by contact 
with the soil, had become infected with the bacillus. 
I have seen men with pieces of shrapnel left in their 
wounds and doing well, but a piece of uniform, 
sodden with the rich soil, was a very different thing 



SAVING THE SOLDIER 233 

But so wonderful has been the advance in the method 
of treating tetanus that to-day, if taken in time, 
such a thing as a fatal result is extremely improb- 
able. Every soldier is so quickly and skilfully treated 
that danger practically does not exist. 

The very terrible gas bacillus caused another very 
common disease, for the gas produced a kind of 
gangrene; yet now there is very little mortality 
indeed from this cause. 

In the beginning, too, any number of men were 
lost from typhoid fever, but now typhoid is getting 
so rare that if a case occurs anywhere on the front 
it is known the same night at the French General 
Headquarters. That remark applies to the whole of 
our armies, and so rigid is the control which is kept 
over these matters that, on the day following the 
report, a searching local inquiry is held as to the 
cause of the disease. 

At the front I saw men who came from all parts 
of the country where I have been working for the 
past twenty-five years — Canadians, Americans, and 
so on. And in passing just let me say that in con- 
nection with this war we are misjudging America 
because of the attitude which the President has 
taken. I have stayed with Mr. Wilson and with 
Mr. Roosevelt, and I know that the spirit of America 
is with us. It is because the whole spirit of the 
American people is with us that thirty-three doctors 
and thirty-six nurses — most of them giving up 
splendid practices — went out from America to the 
front, as the Harvard Unit, to help us. Just so the 
Chicago Unit, and many more Americans fighting in 
the ranks. 

I have seen at the front men of all ages and of 



234 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

every rank in life — veterans who were a long way 
over the army age, and immature youths of sixteen 
or seventeen. The spirit of loyalty and the deter- 
mination to do their bit made them go. Often 
enough a boyish patient would smile when I looked 
at the chart and asked him how old he really was. 
" Oh, that's my Army age," he would say, and go 
on smiling. 

I was right round the trenches two weeks ago, and 
as that was early in March and the winter has been 
exceptionally bad, the conditions were intolerable. 
There is no anxiety, because everybody is sure that 
the line is strong; but the wet, mud and exposure 
make you think that the men will get pneumonia and 
bronchitis; yet what mostly happens is trench-foot. 
I have seen a lot of that in Labrador, where we call 
it frost-bite. It is not, however, the same, though 
it appears to be. I have travelled many times in 
Labrador in winter, when the thermometer has been 
twenty and thirty degrees below zero, and I have 
never had frost-bite except once in my life. That 
was when I was driving my dog-team over the ice. 
The ice broke and my dogs went into the sea. They 
shared a floe with me throughout an awful night, 
and my life was saved at the sacrifice of theirs. I 
have told that story in detail elsewhere, so I need 
not tell it now. 

I saw 150 men from a Highland regiment with 
frost-bite, but that was quite exceptional, and was 
due to the phenomenal weather and the impossibility 
of relieving the men when their relief was due, 
because they were fighting continuously for over 
forty- eight hours. 

There is another direction in which immense strides 




[To face p. 234. 

BACK TO PRIMEVAL LIFE. AT THE END OP A TRENCH, SHOWING A 
FIRE WHICH COOKS AND GIVES WARMTH. 



SAVING THE SOLDIER 235 

have been made, and that is with respect to vermin. 
At one time, at the beginning of the war, there were 
as many as 4000 men who had scabies, or itch, and 
were out of action for the time being ; but you hardly 
see such a case now, because of the wonderful measures 
which are taken to keep the troops perfectly clean 
and fit. 

Close behind the trenches immense vats have been 
placed to serve as baths for the men, and the happiest 
fellows I saw were those who were rolling and splash- 
ing in these hot baths, while their uniforms and cloth- 
ing were being thoroughly cleansed in super-heated 
steam-chests and finished off with heavy hot irons. 

Just as we got into one of these cleaning depots a 
Jack Johnson burst very near us, but nobody took 
the slightest notice of it, so accustomed does one 
become to the happenings of war. Five or six men 
were in each hot bath, and something like 2000 baths 
a day are given. The men become thoroughly clean 
personally, and their clothing also is perfectly freed 
from vermin and filth, and the troops look as happy 
as possible. 

I was greatly struck by the coolness and courage 
of all who worked in these laundries, women as well 
as men, and I could not help thinking that if I stood 
one week of it I should be entitled to the D.S.O. 
Endless thousands of uniforms, socks and articles 
of underclothing are constantly dealt with in the 
manner I have described, and many of the workers 
are under artillery fire all the time. 

In the treatment of bad wounds, too, there has 
been a very great advance, and for such cases as 
broken femurs such an ingenious device has been 
hit upon that you might well say that instead of 



236 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

putting a man into bed you put the bed on to the 
man. The R.A.M.C. is really doing its very best, 
and I shall go back to America feeling perfectly 
satisfied that the British soldier is getting all the 
attention that I could wish to have myself. 

When the war began the surgeons did not know 
where to put the wounded, because of the varying 
fortunes of the fighting. Even Boulogne, Calais and 
Havre were not certain of safety, so that attending 
to the wounded and accommodating them was a 
precarious thing; but the temporary hospitals have 
been gradually replaced by stationary hospitals, the 
mobile makeshift has been succeeded by the per- 
manent institution, and so splendid and complete 
are our resources now that in one day the enormous 
total of 100,000 casualties could be dealt with by the 
R.A.M.C. 

Casualty clearing-stations, field ambulances, ad- 
vanced dressing-posts and fixed hospitals are about 
as perfect as they can be made; and so admirable 
are the arrangements that I saw one man who had 
been shot through the abdomen and was in hospital 
in less than an hour from the time he was wounded — 
which is almost quicker than you would do it in 
London. 

A great many of the less seriously sick and wounded 
do not have to go to the base at all; at times one 
rest-camp was sending 80 per cent, straight back to 
the line, entirely new men; and, as they say in 
America, it would " tickle you to death " to see how 
these things are done. 

If you count up the men who have been wounded 
and invalided from all causes you will find that there 
are still twice as many sick people as there are 



SAVING THE SOLDIER 237 

wounded; and the strange thing is that as there 
are more wounds there is less sickness, because 
directly a " push " comes the men don't think 
nearly as much about sickness as when there is 
nothing doing. 

If you take 1000 persons in ordinary civil life you 
will find that there will always be 3*3 sick per 
1000; but at the front the rate is not quite half as 
many — only 1*8 per 1000 men. It is a very strange 
thing, but I have met with a number of men who 
were always more or less sick in civil life, yet who 
got quite well again at the front. The trenches are 
the place for a change of air ! 

I am sure that after this war a very great many 
men will never go back to the civil life they were 
in before. They must have more life in the open 
air; and there can be no finer field for them than 
that glorious Canada which I know so well, with 
its boundless possibilities of harvests and material 
development. 

One is impressed at the front with the apparent 
valuelessness of human life, and deeply impressed by 
the lavishness with which that life has been laid 
down by all ranks for King and country. This 
remark applies to every rank of life without excep- 
tion, to the highest of the aristocracy as well as to 
the humblest private. And very remarkable, too, is 
the zeal and willingness to serve in quite subordinate 
positions of men who have had every advantage in 
life, particularly the University type. 

I remember at one place, when we were sitting in 
the mess, a sergeant brought in a paper, which he 
handed to the colonel to read. It was a most 
elaborate scientific treatise on the body vermin that 



238 IN THE LINE OF BATTLE 

so greatly trouble our troops, and it was beautifully 
illustrated. In addition to that the paper showed 
the willing endurance of personal suffering for prac- 
tical purposes that I for one should not have cared 
to undergo, for the sergeant had made himself 
thoroughly well acquainted with the effects of the 
visitation of the pests he described. 

I was so much impressed by the performance that 
I said to the colonel, " Who is your sergeant ? " and 
he replied, " Oh, he's the Professor of Entomology 
in the University of ! " 

As I talk my mind takes me back to Labrador 
and its ice-bound coast, and I recall that when 
working through the ice-fields in our little mission 
ship, the Strathcona, or travelling in lonely regions 
with my dog-teams, I saw so many evidences of the 
eagerness of men out there to do their bit in this 
tremendous war. Almost to a man, when they 
heard that we were fighting, they wanted to come 
over. But at first in Labrador we got very little 
news, and when news did come it was not credited. 
" Oh," said the men, " don't you believe it. They've 
always got some scare on. They're going to put the 
price of fish up ! " Fish, you know, is the greatest 
of all material things out in that vast and lonely 
land. But what happened when they knew that it 
was not a scare, but real war, and a fight for liberty 
and justice? Why, 1500 men of Labrador and 
Newfoundland went into the Navy alone, and these 
brave and splendid fellows crowded into the Army 
too. A thousand of them were in Gallipoli. And 
wherever they were they found their hard experience 
of the utmost worth. Our trappers soon learn the 
knack of getting a seal with the gun, though the seal 



SAVING THE SOLDIER 239 

only just pops his head through an ice-hole and the 
tiny target is the hardest of all things to see. But 
the trapper gets him — he seldom misses; and when- 
ever a German puts his head out — well, he gets 
it too. 

I have been in Labrador twenty-five years, and I 
am proud of the way in which my friends out there 
have done their duty at the front. 

My own view of life is that one has to do one's 
duty in any place where one happens to be; and I 
know from what I have seen that our splendid fellows 
at the front have the same outlook. There are 
many, many soldiers out there who, with practically 
nothing to look forward to when the war is over, 
are sustained by one great thing, and that is the 
knowledge that they are doing their best. 

I have mentioned Canada as a great place for 
receiving men who will be set free when the war is 
over. I have just seen the statement that Canada 
has gone prohibition from end to end, and that 
pleases me very much. I have spent thirty years 
amongst deep-sea fishermen and sailors as a medical 
missionary and a master mariner, and I have shared 
many dangers with them in the North Sea, out on 
the Labrador coast and elsewhere, but I have seen 
more sorrow and misery in the homes of our sea- 
faring men through drink than I ever found in even 
small craft at sea. 

All these things that I have spoken of come under 
the heading of practical religion and real Christianity, 
and rightly so. I do not believe in the Christian 
religion being negative ; it is essential that you make 
it positive. 



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Richard Clay & SoN8, Limited, 

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AND BUNGAY SUFFOLK. 



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